


Like a Dove

by a_silhouette_against_the_stars



Category: Great Pretender (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort, Eventual relationship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:26:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28180116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_silhouette_against_the_stars/pseuds/a_silhouette_against_the_stars
Summary: Laurent loves him so, so much. Above all else.And that's why he let him go. Because Edamura deserves better.But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.--------A story about loss, family, accepting one's self, and dealing with guilt.--------Canon divergent, but based on some of the events in season 2.--------Do not repost. Thank you. :)
Relationships: Edamura Makoto & Laurent Thierry, Edamura Makoto/Laurent Thierry
Comments: 53
Kudos: 146





	1. Prologue

Laurent was tired. Well, no shit. That much has always been true, especially as of late. The thing was, now Laurent  _ looked _ it.

The dark circles underneath Laurent’s eyes were a testament to his weak attempts at sleep: eventually opting instead to stay up late, taking slow sips from cheap bottles of wine. His signature, flowery-pink dress shirt was more wrinkled than usual, and the buttons were never fully done up. His hair was nearly always disheveled, but not in the artistic, gruff look Laurent had styled it in in the past. The only comfort came in Laurent’s personality, in which he was still the same as ever: a tad flirtatious, nonchalant, and intentionally confusing. 

It was just a few weeks before Laurent had planned a heist in Las Vegas -- targeting yet another rich douchebag -- when the sleep deprivation hit him hard. There didn’t seem to be any particular reason behind Laurent’s impromptu exhaustion: at least, not a cause that anyone besides him knew of. On the last heist, one very similar to the next Laurent had planned, the Frenchman had been at the top of his game: looking and feeling sharp. Besides the specific details of the two jobs, not much had seemingly changed in Laurent’s personal life.

Well, besides the absence of one brown-haired, stubborn man nick-named Edamame. 

After the last heist, Edamura had done one of his signature moves -- quitting the team, vowing to live an honest life, etcetera -- and packed his bags, heading home to Japan. Normally, this wouldn’t bother Laurent as much, but unlike when Edamura had left the group in the past, this time, he would not be coming back. This time, despite Cynthia’s complaining and Aby’s subtle frown, Laurent let Edamura go. There were no tricks, no future plans to bring Edamura back. This time, it was real. 

It was guilt, at least partially, as to why Laurent didn’t try to fight Edamura’s leaving. It was guilt that Laurent felt when he fantasized about pulling Edamura close, pressing a soft kiss to his chapped lips. It was pure, unfiltered guilt.    
  


And why? Why did Laurent have to feel guilty? He had moved on from Dorothy. She was dead, her body lost to the ocean. And Laurent had accepted that. And Dorothy had allowed him to move on, eventually. 

Maybe it was because Edamame -- er,  _ Edamura --  _ was such a great person, such a pure person, and Laurent was… well, Laurent was Laurent.

Laurent wasn’t stupid. That’s one thing, above all, he could say he wasn’t. Edamura deserved better than Laurent, and Laurent knew it.

But that didn’t make it any less painful.

Currently, Laurent was lying on his unmade bed, sprawled out and slumped against the wall his mattress was pressed up against. According to the small alarm clock illuminating a miniscule portion of his nightstand, it was around four am. Soon, Aby would be awake to work out, while Cynthia wouldn’t get up until later. It was a miracle Laurent hadn’t passed out, considering the amount of alcohol he had consumed. 

His vision was becoming increasingly blurry, though, and yet another tension headache was building. This was typically when the hallucinations started. 

In the past, when he got like this, he had seen Dorothy. Especially after her death, Laurent just couldn’t seem to escape her; her phantom was reaching for his face, trailing a finger along his arm, clutching at his sanity whilst still maintaining an iron grip on his heart. 

Laurent didn’t see Edamura do any of those things, though. When he did appear, it was typically just to sit lightly at the end of the bed, casting a disdainful look at the pitiful state of Laurent’s room until finally meeting Laurent’s gaze, as if to ask him  _ so, what are you going to do next?  _ Whenever Laurent imagined how warm it would feel to envelop Edamura in person, or heaven forbid found himself stuck in another fantasy in his head, he would be the one reaching for the other. He could never touch him though, and eventually, Edamura would stand, sink his hands into his pockets, and meander out the door. 

Laurent didn’t see Edamura today, and he felt a pang of sadness deep within his gut. It was depressing, really. This is how miserable Laurent has become in the short timespan since Edamura had left.

It was still early; through the slits in the curtains concealing his view of the outside world, Laurent could only now see the sun beginning to rise. And, since sleep still failed to claim him, and he still hadn’t hallucinated Edamura, Laurent did the only other thing his sleep-deprived and intoxicated brain could think of.

He drank. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so short! ＞﹏＜


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will alternate between describing both Laurent and Edamura's experience with Edamura leaving, as well as them both developing a possible relationship. From here on out, chapters will note whether or not Laurent or Edamura's perspective is being described. The majority of the chapters will be in Laurent's perspective though. Sorry for any possible confusion!
> 
> I'm also really sorry for any possible typos! ＞︿＜

_ Edamura, a week and a half ago _

It was downpouring when Edamura got off the plane. Which was ironic, he thought, all things considered. Even the weather fit his mood.

He hadn’t brought much back home with him: only a small suitcase full of a few extra clothing items. He hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella. In all actuality, packing had been the last thing on his mind.

Edamura was still standing at the entrance to the airport. All around him, people were living their own, oblivious lives. Businesspeople speaking frantically into their cell phones -- presumably hurrying off to a meeting -- waved down taxis, whilst tourists crowded under the overhang at a nearby bus stop. A middle-aged man nearly dropped his bags sprinting to a beat-up car, where a woman sprang from the driver’s seat to envelope him in a hug, sobbing profusely. Briefly, Edamura wondered about their story, and what it was like to miss someone that badly. They were clearly in some sort of relationship, platonic or romantic. Did the man regret leaving the woman for however long he was away from home? Did he fly home early just to see her?

Edamura could have called a taxi, but he didn’t feel like sitting still, anxiously thinking over his last interaction with Cynthia, Aby, and -- heaven help him -- Laurent. He had done enough of that on the flight. So, despite the buckets of rain drenching him and his belongings, Edamura began the somber journey home. 

It was the right decision. It was a brave decision. It was a grown-up decision. It had shown that Edamura was not the same fool who had fallen for Laurent’s tricks; he had grown, he had changed. It was the wise decision: to walk away and not look back, despite how much his heart hurt.

An honest life. How many times had Edamura tried that? How many times had he ended up crawling right back to  _ him _ ? Too many. That was the answer. Edamura was done letting Laurent use him.

Except…  _ had  _ Laurent really used him? Every heist, every plan… Edamura had willingly participated, after he knew what was going on. He liked it. Edamura liked helping others, the same way Cynthia, Aby, and Laurent did. 

But that wasn’t _all_ he liked.

Edamura gritted his teeth. God, did he make a mistake? Should he go back? Don’t be stupid, Makoto. He only wanted you for the cons. That was all.

But, if that were the case… what was it all for? What were the looks Laurent shot his way, when he was sure no one else was looking? What were those in-between moments, where the group had no future plans but hung around together anyways? What was that moment on the boat after the con they pulled on the Shanghai group, where Edamura and Laurent both talked about the future as they looked out over the ocean, the stars their only witnesses if something were to happen?

But something hadn’t happened. Instead, Edamura had gone to sleep. And Laurent… well, Laurent didn’t care, Edamura was sure.

And after? Well, after everything was over, Edamura had left. And Laurent had let him. And it nearly killed Edamura. 

And that was that.

On the side of the street, through the thick sheets of rain, Edamura noticed a capsule toy machine: the ones with the collectible figurines. Because it was partially a habit, and because he was feeling nostalgic, Edamura stopped: crouching down to withdraw a capsule toy from the machine. It was another cat, similar to the ones he had gifted to his mother, all those years ago.

Come to think of it, Edamura could use some of his mother’s expert advice right now. What would she suggest? Should Edamura turn right back around and go crawling back to Laurent with his tail between his legs? Or should he try to salvage whatever normalcy he had left in his life, carving out a different role for himself in the world? Was there a way to do both?

  
Briefly, Edamura had the idea to visit his mother’s grave. And, if it wasn’t for the ice-cold rain, he might’ve. But exhaustion had somehow infiltrated his limbs, and Edamura suddenly felt like it was more and more difficult to stand up straight. So, while he still had the energy, he continued on his slow way to his abandoned flat. 

How long had it been since Edamura had been home and off a con? It felt peculiar, almost unnatural, to not have a plan (other than to sleep off the jet-lag, of course). Edamura tried not to think about how poorly he had thought this through, though; it wasn’t an ideal thought process to have when battling exhaustion.

At last, Edamura arrived at his flat. After fumbling with his keys for longer than he’d like to admit, Edamura unlocked the door, and all but flopped onto the thin, unmade mattress that doubled as both his bed and couch. He threw his luggage onto the floor -- including his phone and figurine -- not really caring what happened to it. 

Had Laurent ever been to his flat before? Edamura, in his current sleepy state, honestly forgot. If Laurent had, Edamura doubted he had stayed the night; Laurent was on his own schedule, and Edamura was sure the Frenchman would rather spend his precious time elsewhere than Edamura’s sorry home. 

Suddenly, Edamura’s face blushed crimson. That sounded wrong; it wasn’t like he  _ wanted  _ Laurent to stay the night, and even if he did, it wasn’t in  _ that _ way. Right? Right. Of course. Laurent and Edamura weren’t even “friends,” right? I mean, sure, they were involved in various cons together, and sometimes Edamura did something that made Laurent laugh, and Laurent always acted comfortably enough around Edamura, but they didn’t know each other in the way that friends do. Edamura didn’t know Laurent’s favorite color, or his favorite singer, or the name of his favorite coffee brand (was that a normal thing for friends to know, on second thought?) and he was reasonably certain Laurent didn’t know his. (Not entirely positive, but reasonably certain. One could never be entirely sure when it came to the Frenchman.)

But… maybe Edamura wanted to know more. He wanted to know about Laurent’s likes and dislikes, and how he spends his time when he isn’t brainstorming ways to screw rich assholes over. Maybe he could invite Laurent to Japan someday… or would he take that as a sign that he wanted to continue carrying out cons?

Edamura groaned. Whatever happened to sleep? Just moments ago he had been exhausted, but now he couldn’t seem to silence the gears whirring in his brain.

Maybe it would help to talk to someone. Someone who could empathize with Edamura and reaffirm that he was making the right decision to leave the so-called confidence group. With a sigh, Edamura reached for his phone and opened up a list of his contacts. 

Shockingly enough, Edamura didn’t have many people he could call. Aby wouldn’t give a damn about his issues, and Cynthia would surely snitch on him to Laurent, which was near the last thing Edamura needed right now. Edamura supposed he could’ve called someone else, like Kudo, but to put things lightly, he didn’t trust Kudo to give quality advice. 

Edamura sighed. That really left one option then. 

Before he could back out, Edamura found the contact he was looking for, and pressed the “call” button. As things turned out, the other man didn’t pick up, and Edamura found himself debating whether or not to leave a message. 

“Hey, uh, da-,” Edamura began before clearing his throat. Already off to a great start, Makoto. “Uh, Oz, I mean. I’m… I need some advice. I made a choice, but I’m not sure if it’s the right one. Call me back when you can.”

After he was done, Edamura set his phone aside once more: aiming to try for some actual rest, despite the onslaught of anxious thoughts buzzing around in his head. Fate was not on his side though, and as luck would have it, when his dad finally did call back at 3 am, Edamura would answer on the first ring. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey every one! I really want to apologize because I know I took a fair amount of time publishing this chapter. I've been in a rough place mentally, and after some stuff happened I basically spent my time watching ATLA because I was feeling super down and that show never fails to make me happy. (Speaking of which, should I do a ATLA fic??) Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chapter! I want to apologize for any typos; I just edited this at 5:50 AM and have not yet slept.
> 
> Also just a reminder; this is a mature fic and does include some talk of drinking. Just wanted to add this trigger warning in case some people are uncomfortable with that. :)

_ Laurent, present day _

Edamura was similar to a dove. That’s what Laurent decided as he drunkenly watched the sun rise through the slits in his curtains, illuminating the dust floating hazily through the air of his trashed room. Edamura was a dove -- innocent and peaceful -- and Laurent was… he was… well, Laurent was the opposite of Edamura. 

Edamura believed strongly in peace; he aimed to do the right thing. During every con Laurent and Edamura ever worked together on, Edamura always stayed strong and hopeful. Despite the shit life had put Makoto through, the essence of his being was pure, whereas Laurent couldn’t say the same about himself. 

The thing was, Edamame just had this spark that drove him, and that spark was caring. He cared about others: deeply, sometimes to the point of his own demise. Laurent, to be perfectly candid, had lost that sense of caring after Dorothy died, and until Edamame came along, he never thought he could have possibly regained it. 

Speaking of Edamura, how long had it been since he had left? A week? A week and a half? A month? Time had no meaning. All that mattered was the dove had unfurled his wings, taken off as soon as he got the chance. And Laurent, because he loved Edamura, let him go.

Laurent closed his eyes. Suddenly, his very being, his very soul, felt drained. He was tired, and at last, the alcohol was beginning to affect him. Slowly, he began to allow the world to melt away -- his thoughts to be silenced -- and he drifted off to sleep.

...That is, until the door to his room swung open, and Laurent was rudely tugged back to reality: greeted with the harsh light of the hallway and a woman with striking, crimson hair leaning against the door frame.  _ Was it later than Laurent thought? Who was this person? _

If Laurent’s eyes weren’t so bleary, and his head wasn’t feeling so heavy, he would’ve recognized this woman instantly, even with an uncommon look of pure pity on her face. However, seeing as his eyes were intent on playing tricks on him, and Laurent’s head was spinning, it took him a good few moments to realize that this person was, indeed, Cynthia.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” Cynthia commented softly, raising an eyebrow as she surveyed the littered landscape that made up Laurent’s room. “‘Dumpster chic’ is a very innovative room theme, Laurent.”

Laurent meant to glare at the blurry Cynthia, but seeing as he was still drunk, his eyelids betrayed him, and he ended up looking more like he was squinting than anything. Plus, even in this intoxicated state, Laurent knew that Cynthia was right; just to the left of him, two empty bottles of wine were tossed carelessly on his bed, and a pile of unwashed pants were stacked up on his pillow for no apparent reason. In fact, Laurent had no idea how those pants had even  _ gotten _ there.

“I don’t… I don’t suppose you have seen a dove anywhere, have you…?” Laurent murmured, barely understandable.  _ Crap, that wasn’t what he meant to say. Pull yourself together, Thierry! _

Alas, although Cynthia may not have been able to understand Laurent, her face morphed into one of genuine concern anyways. Say what you want about the confidence team, but on some level, Cynthia and Aby  _ both  _ worried about Laurent. 

With this worry in mind, in a daring move, Cynthia ventured further into the so-called “dumpster chic” room to crouch by Laurent’s bedside, careful not to trip over a pile of miscellaneous garbage. 

“I was going to ask if you were too out of it to fill Aby and I in on the details of the next con,” Cynthia sighed, patting Laurent on the arm empathetically. “I guess I got my answer. That can wait, though. Laurent, I thought we talked about this.” After several moments, when Laurent didn’t reply and only stared wistfully off at a wine bottle thrown to the side of his room, Cynthia took a deep breath, regaining her composure. “Right, okay. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Cynthia stood, and, nearly forgetting about the garbage behind her, all but stumbled to the door. She looked back at Laurent -- who was, once again, fading from reality -- before vanishing into the bathroom a door or so down the too-bright hallway.

Laurent stayed perfectly still, every limb in his body feeling like it were made of lead. Several times, before Cynthia returned, Laurent thought he saw the feather of a dove drifting through the air, but with his exhausted limbs, he couldn’t reach out to touch it. It was just his mind playing tricks on him; Laurent knew this. Yet, strangely enough, he felt pained as he watched the feathers vanish into nothing when they hit the floor. 

  
After what felt like a century, Cynthia was back at Laurent’s side, dabbing carefully at his grimy face with a washcloth.

“I don’t know when the last time you showered was, Laurent, but please take my advice and pull yourself together as soon as you’re sober,” Cynthia said, her voice audibly uneasy. “You can’t continue on like this, Thierry. I’m… I’m worried. Please just… try and move on, okay?”

In all actuality, Laurent was pretty sure Cynthia knew the bare minimum of what was bothering him. It wasn’t that hard to figure out, especially for someone as intelligent as her. So Laurent was fairly positive in saying he knew the meaning behind what Cynthia said, even drunk.

  
“I just… miss him,” Laurent muttered. Lord, this was out of character for him. Laurent never really talked about his own emotions. Then again, it was also out of character for Cynthia to come in and take care of someone like this. Usually Cynthia was fearless, brave, and gave absolutely zero fucks. Her headstrong personality was just one of the things Laurent admired about her. Laurent supposed that Edamame leaving had affected the whole team -- not just him -- in unique ways. Edamame made the team  _ feel  _ like more than just a group of con artists; he made them feel like a family, somehow, though no one ever admitted it.

Nonetheless, if Cynthia didn’t understand what was happening, she did now.

Cynthia’s tone weakened a little more. “I know you do. We all do, Laurent. Aby won’t say it, but I see her staring at her phone with her finger just hovering over his contact, wondering if she should call him. He was a great addition to the group, fit right in. Even I miss seeing his face around.” 

“Was letting him go right…?” Laurent trailed off, unaware if he was saying or thinking the words. “He… the dove… he wanted to leave, right? So it was for the better...”

Cynthia looked at him with as much patience as she could muster, waiting calmly for Laurent to finish speaking before chiming in with her own thoughts.

“Look, Laurent. You’re feeling Edamame leaving the hardest out of all of us, but that’s a choice he made for himself. And you have to respect that. Of course you’re going to miss him. It hasn’t even been that long since he left. But… something tells me you feel more for him than just longing for him to return. Because you… how do I say this.” At this point, Cynthia ran a hand through her hair, twisting a strand thoughtfully around her finger. It took a few seconds for her to figure out how to phrase what she was trying to say. “I think, on some level, we all see you as our team leader, of sorts. Our rock, you know? You’re always stable, even in a storm. Always there for us with a fairly decent plan, even if things go south. And this, while saddening, isn’t enough to destroy you.”

Laurent bit his lip to keep from saying something he would have regretted later. Instead, his emotions began to express themselves in his eyes, and tears began to block his vision even further.

“Laurent?” Cynthia asked, noticing the tears silently welling in Laurent’s eyes and soon winding down his cheek. For a second, the tears didn’t register, and Cynthia simply stared at Laurent, stunned at what was occurring. Because Laurent… Laurent had done many things, but not once had he ever cried like this.  _ Was this even the same Frenchman Cynthia knew? _

Blinking rapidly, Cynthia snapped out of her daze and quickly brought up the dry side of the washcloth to try in vain to wipe away the waterfall of tears. “Ah shit, I’m sorry Laurent. I swear, this is why I’m bad at comforting others. Forget everything I said, alright?”

Laurent, with great effort, shook his head. With even more strain and effort, Laurent managed to open his mouth. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and warbly, unlike anything Cynthia had heard before.

“I’m crying,” Laurent whispered. “Because you… you’re right.”

Cynthia frowned, clearly perplexed, but also a tad bit intrigued. “About what?” To Cynthia’s immense worry, Laurent began to smile: a lopsided grin that, in no way, matched the emotions his eyes were showcasing.

“I don’t… I don’t just miss him,” Laurent said, with even more difficulty. He was starting to feel breathless, and more exhaustion was setting in, but he had so much more to say. And yet… how did he put what he was feeling into words? How does he properly and thoroughly express the gaping hole he feels inside him whenever he realizes that Edamura is gone, never to return? How does one transfer into words the feeling of love, yet also despair? Not to mention the guilt, because Edamura  _ will _ move on. Edamura should move on and forget about him, but Laurent… Laurent doesn’t  _ want _ that. 

So what did Laurent want, then? To date Edamura? To have him return and continue doing cons? To marry him? To simply hold his hand? To kiss him, to tell him his feelings? Laurent was right back where he began. Confused, lost, and anxious. 

Realizing Cynthia was waiting for a more in-depth answer, Laurent took a deep breath in, trying to steady himself and his hands, which for some reason, appeared shaky. When he did finally speak, Laurent seemed detached, almost as if his soul had fled from his body and left for Japan along with Edamura. 

“Do you ever just… want someone to be happy? And… and you’ll do anything for them to be happy. Because you have this feeling, deep down inside you, and you know what it is, but half the time you’re too afraid to say it out loud. Because what it means… what it means is… is he holds a bit of your heart, and he could just crush it if he wanted to.” Strangely, the more Laurent talked, the more awake he felt. The more  _ alive _ he felt. And so, he continued. “I… you know what I’m trying to say, right? Hell, I didn’t expect it either. Falling… falling for Edamame, the adorable dork who just happened to flounder right into our lives. I just… I want him to be happy, Cynthia. That’s all. And if it means that he’s happy away from me, then I… who am I to stop him?”

For a few seconds, which felt like an eternity to Laurent, Cynthia was quiet. Almost eerily quiet. It was a rarity that Cynthia was at a loss for words. Then again, it was also rare that Laurent told other’s what was on his mind, off of things related to cons. 

“You know, love is a tricky thing, Laurent,” Cynthia spoke. To Laurent’s extreme shock, Cynthia had abandoned the task of avoiding Laurent’s garbage and was leaning against the trash behind her, forgotten washcloth still in hand. She was gazing intently at Laurent, but Laurent felt like she was looking at someone else altogether, like she was perhaps trying to recall a memory she had long ago, with someone else. “It can change us, or break us, and sometimes it can even heal us. But it can also hurt, to be in love. We want what’s best for the person or people we care for, but sometimes what’s best for them hurts us, and vice versa.” 

Laurent’s throat felt dry. He should’ve asked Cynthia to bring him a glass of water, damn it. 

  
  
“What do I do now, though…?” Laurent croaked out, trying and failing at not looking desperate. “I… I don’t want things to end like this.”

  
  
Cynthia sighed yet again, and she leaned forward to give Laurent a gentle pat on his knee. “I truly don’t know, Thierry. But, if you ask me, Edamame is lucky to have you caring for him. You keep your cards so close to your chest that I doubt he ever even knew you loved him.”

Laurent felt hollow. Instead of speaking, he simply nodded in return. How could he possibly reply to that? His head was buzzing with so many words to say, so many things he wanted to say, yet he felt… he felt strange. His vision had increased in blurriness. It seemed the alcohol was finally catching up.

“Laurent? Laurent, you don’t look so good. Who am I kidding though, you’re not sober in the slightest and I’m just here rambling on about love. Like I know about that.” Cynthia stood, stretching her arms above her head in the late morning light. “Sleep well, Thierry. We can talk in the morning. Or, rather, your morning. Which I suspect will be around two am, when you finally wake up again. And don’t worry, no one will hear about this. My lips are sealed.” With a wink, Cynthia spun around and sashayed to the door, and then she was gone as quickly as she came. 

Laurent couldn’t stop his eyelids from closing. Staying awake was no longer an option. 

Right before he fell asleep though, he could’ve sworn he saw him. Edamura, sat on the edge of his bed, staring longingly out the window.

Who was Laurent kidding, though? Edamura wasn’t there. Why would he be? They weren’t even friends. They were just two people whose lives briefly intersected. 

Just… why did Laurent still feel so lost and confused without Edamura nearby? Why did he love him so much?

Whatever, Edamura wasn’t there anyways. It was just a trick of the light, like usual.


	4. Announcement (Not A Chapter -- Sorry!)

Hello to every one who happened upon this fanfiction! I just have a brief announcement here.

I'm very sorry I haven't been able to update this story in six days or so. I'm in very advanced classes, so during weekdays I'm rather busy. (Legit, what is it with advanced placement courses and assigning work due at midnight?) With that said, upon reorganizing my plan for this story, Like a Dove is going to be longer than I intended. Originally, I planned for this story to be 8 chapters _at most_ , and now I'm looking at around 11.

This chapter amount could change, but seeing as I want to do this fanfic right without rushing the plot too much, I plan to take my time writing things. 

I'm thinking about establishing a schedule where every Thursday night or so (probably around 7 pm EST, but the time could change) I'll update a new chapter or two. This gives me ample time to revise, rethink, and write up the chapters on the weekend with last-minute editing on Wednesday night after virtual classes. 

I just wanted to give a quick update on this, as I know that when I'm reading a fanfic or watching a show that isn't already completed, I appreciate knowing when the author plans to publish a new chapter or a new episode will be out. I'm aware that some authors/creators can't do this though for other reasons, and that's completely alright; I just am trying to find a plan that works for me while still being able to publish chapters at a fairly consistent rate. I don't believe the last chapter was of the best quality, seeing as my sleep schedule last week was... well, pardon my language, but rather shitty. So, with this new schedule, I may also have time to edit that again and fix any typos or confusion caused. (Why did I think editing while sleep deprived was a good idea? ＞﹏＜) I could consider getting a beta reader at some point, but to be honest, only select people in real life know I write fanfiction, seeing as I'm a massive introvert. Maybe I'll consider asking a close online friend at some point if they're interested. 

ALRIGHTY! With all that boring stuff out of the way, I really just want to thank every one who has read, commented, or liked this fic! I never imagined that my fanfics would be something multiple people would enjoy... I've been writing fanfic for years, but until recently, I hadn't published any of them. So, I just want to thank every one who has read this fic so far. You inspire me to be the best writer I possibly can! :D Especially during these crazy times, I hope this fanfic has been something you enjoy. Please stay safe and take care of yourselves! If Thursday at 7 pm EST isn't the best time for me to upload another chapter, I am also more than happy to hear suggestions. :)

\-- a_silhouette_against_the_stars (side note; should I consider shortening my name? I feel like it's too long haha)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it is me with an early update because I forgot about several pages of work I need to finish tonight and have just been watching Bungo Stray Dogs all day. Such is the life of a student weeb.  
> Anyways! Hope y'all enjoy this chapter. This is (mostly) edited. I tried my best, haha. I looked over the other chapters and saw some stuff I need to fix so I'll do that soon after I sob over calculus- I mean what?  
> \-- Oliver, aka a_silhouette_against_the_stars (omg wow look they have a shorter name lol)  
> p.s: I feel like I talked about Edamura's phone a lot in this chapter. Make the comments look like Edamura's search history question mark? lol

_ Edamura, still roughly a week and a half ago  _

Oz sounded tired. That’s the first thing Edamura noticed when his dad picked up the phone. And rightly so; it was 3 am, for fuck’s sake. Both Edamura and Oz should be asleep. Edamura felt a wave of fresh guilt wash through him; his father probably didn’t expect his son to pick up his call so quickly. Maybe he should just hang up. But… then who would help him with his current predicament?

While Edamura was debating over whether to hang up the phone or remain on call, Oz cleared his throat, dragging Edamura back down to earth. Even though Oz hadn’t been around for the majority of Edamura’s childhood, Makoto’s anxiety -- even through a phone call -- was practically palpable, and when Makoto got anxious, he tended to overthink a lot of things. 

“Makoto, is something the matter?” Oz asked, voice crackling softly through the speakers on Edamura’s phone. “I’m sorry I took so long getting back to you. I only just got home from work. My boss is tough: has me working a bunch of late hours his week.” Oz tried and promptly failed at stifling a yawn.

Edamura hesitated, still overseeing a war between his conflicted emotions. He forgot that, after his last con, his dad returned to living a normal life.  _ Why was it so easy for Oz, and not for him?  _ “That’s okay. My intention isn’t to bother you. I get if you need to go and rest. You must’ve had a long day.”

Oz attempted to silence another yawn, but to no avail. He was still in his work clothes, and the prospect of sleep seemed so appealing that, if Oz were to sit down for even just a moment, he may pass out. Thus, he continued to pace around his apartment, trying to shake the exhaustion from his limbs.

“That’s alright, Makoto,” Oz said with as much sincerity as he could muster. “I wouldn’t have called you back if I was truly exhausted.”  _ Okay, that was clearly a lie. _ “What’s on your mind?”

Once more, Edamura hesitated. Oz waited patiently -- or, what he hoped appeared as patiently.

“Oz… I mean, Dad. How do you know what to do in a situation? How do you know what path is right, and what path is wrong?”

Briefly, Oz paused in his pacing. He hadn’t expected Edamura to call him “dad.” Even now, after all this time, Edamura and Oz could have a rocky relationship. Oz tried his best to be there for his son, or believed he was trying his best, and Edamura seemed to be more at ease when talking to him, but on some level, things between them could still seem tense at times. Oz wasn’t there for Edamura when his mother died, and he needed a shoulder to lean on. In short, Oz wasn’t the father he had hoped he could be for his son, and knowing that wounded him.

Edamura also had conflicting feelings about Ozaki being his father, and those feelings were very prominent in his behavior. Apparently, though, whatever Edamura was struggling with now outweighed the remaining distrust he still felt towards Oz.

Ozaki cleared his throat. “Is this in reference to you quitting the con team, Makoto?”

Edamura was silent for a moment. He hadn’t expected his father to know what was going on right away. Who had told him? “How did you know?”

Oz took a deep breath. He had anticipated this question. “I still keep in touch with Laurent and the rest of the gang, sometimes. I’ve known Laurent specifically for awhile now. So, every so often, I get updates on how things are.”

Edamura frowned. That didn’t sit right with him. He always forgot that Laurent and Ozaki knew each other. It was peculiar to think that Laurent had been running cons with people who weren’t Cynthia and Aby. 

“Judging from your silence, I take it I guessed accurately.” Oz put his phone on speaker and meandered into the kitchen. If he was going to stay awake throughout this conversation, he desperately needed coffee.

Edamura nodded slightly, though Ozaki had no way of seeing him. “Yeah… I guess it is about that. I just… I need someone to tell me if I’m doing the right thing by leaving the group.”

Ozaki frowned, setting a coffee pot from a nearby cupboard onto the stove. “And you want me to be that person to tell you what’s right and what’s wrong? If that’s the case, I’m sorry, Makoto, but I can’t decide what’s best for you. You have to make that decision for yourself.”

Edamura felt a flicker of annoyance crease his brow. “I know that. It’s just… I’m so lost, Dad.” 

Ozaki heard the desperation in his son’s voice. With a sigh, he set the coffee in the pot to warm on the stove before reaching over to his phone, which he had rested on the countertop.    
  


“Can I ask what specifically is keeping you from moving on? Do you miss carrying out the cons? I must admit, I always found carrying out cons to be quite enjoyable. The adrenaline rush is addictive, almost,” Oz said with a fond chuckle, reflecting on the adventures he had as a con man.

Edamura, suddenly, was worried talking to Oz was a bad idea. What should he tell him? That the reason he was feeling so conflicted was because of some blond bastard? “No, it’s nothing like that. I mean…I guess I kinda miss the cons. But it’s not the main reason I’m feeling so confused right now.”

Ozaki frowned for a moment, considering the possible reasons as to why Edamura was so worried over whether or not he made the right choice leaving the con group. “Do you miss Aby? You always seemed like you got along well with her.”

Edamura’s eyebrows shot upwards. “Aby?!” When Edamura spoke, his voice rose in a way that suggested Oz’s question was absolutely ridiculous. The way Oz phrased his question made it sound like he was accusing Edamura of being  _ interested  _ in Aby. Which… no. Aby was nothing more than a friend. A good friend, one he did miss, but… She wasn’t Laurent.

Edamura struggled to regain his composure, clearing his throat. Thank god Aby wasn’t there for this conversation. She would’ve never let Edamura forget the ridiculous facial expression he had made. “I miss Aby, but only like a friend,” Edamura explained, perhaps a bit hastily. Oz got the message.

“Does that imply that you miss one or more of the other con members in a way  _ not  _ like a friend?” Oz casually asked, pouring his freshly-made coffee into a small mug nearby. “Sorry for the prying. I just want to help you with your current situation, is all.”

Edamura mentally facepalmed himself. Ozaki was a very perceptive man. But, how could Edamura answer Oz’s question when he was so very unclear on his own feelings?

“If I tell you the truth,” Edamura said through gritted teeth, face blushing a bright red as an image of Laurent appeared in his mind’s eye. “Will you tell anyone?” Lord, Edamura hated the way he sounded. Like a teenager with a crush, all embarrassed at the mere thought of the person they liked. And if there was one thing Edamura didn’t have, it was a crush on Laurent. Okay, well, maybe that was a lie. Edamura was still figuring things out,  _ okay ? _

Ozaki smiled slightly, taking a slow sip of coffee. “I have no one to tell, Makoto.”

“You promise?”

“You have my word.”

Edamura took a deep breath in, exhaling gently. Was he truly about to do this? “I… I miss Laurent,” he conceded. “I’m worried I made the wrong decision leaving the con group because, on some strange level, I miss that asshole.” As soon as the words were out, Edamura regretted not staying silent. Even though his dad wasn’t with him in person, Edamura squeezed his eyes shut.  _ Would now be a good time to hang up the call?  _

Alas, Ozaki merely took another thoughtful sip of coffee before replying to his son, as calm as ever. “Ah, Laurent. Like I said, I’ve known him for a long time. A smart guy, honestly. I daresay even a genius.”

Edamura carefully opened one eye, then the other. His dad didn't _sound_ any different.  _ Was it normal to miss someone like this?  _ With a deep sigh, a portion of Edamura’s anxiety faded. The immediate danger had passed. And, now that it had, Edamura  _ did _ feel better telling someone the truth about his emotions.

“Do you have romantic feelings towards Laurent, Makoto?” Oz asked. 

Edamura took it back. The immediate danger had not, in fact, passed.

“Wh-what?! No! O-of course not! Laurent… he’s truly just an acquaintance! I mean… maybe it crossed my mind like once or twice… you know, dating him. He’s kinda cute… but his personality, I- I mean what?! Definitely not, okay? I… I don’t know! I’m… I’m confused,” Edamura mumbled, face heating up.

Ozaki held back a chuckle, trying to appear respectful. Makoto had always been bad at lying. “There’s no shame if you do. But I won’t pry.”

Edamura bit his lip. He didn’t trust himself not to say anything stupid. Staying silent was the safest option right now.

“You know, Laurent was in love once,” Ozaki said suddenly, taking another long sip of his coffee. “She was in our con group. You may have even heard of her. Dorothy, her name was. Laurent was absolutely infatuated with her.”

Edamura stopped biting his lip, shocked by this bit of information. He didn’t remember hearing this before. “Laurent was in love? Really?”

“Indeed. They got engaged and everything. To be frank, Laurent loved Dorothy a whole lot more than Dorothy loved him. The thing Dorothy loved most were cons, and Laurent couldn’t compare to that. No one could. But, to Laurent, Dorothy was his whole world.”

“What… What happened to her? To Dorothy?” Makoto asked, a sickly feeling in his stomach that only worsened when Oz didn’t reply for several seconds.

“She died when on a con,” Oz finally said, voice soft. On the stove, the extra coffee Oz brewed was beginning to turn cold. “She wouldn’t have wanted to die any other way, really. But, Makoto… some part of Laurent died that day, too. Dorothy’s death crushed him.”

Edamura, suddenly, had more questions than he had answers. “Why are you telling me this? If Laurent hadn’t told me himself, I doubt he’d be okay with me knowing this. Seems personal.”

Ozaki sighed, as if disappointed Edamura couldn’t read between the lines. “Look, Makoto. Laurent has been through heartbreak. He battled his way through pain and came out a different man. But… that week after Dorothy died, he was a mess. Didn’t sleep, drank constantly, nearly killed himself.”

Edamura swallowed a lump in his throat.

“I’m just saying to not mess with his feelings, Makoto,” Oz continued. “Because he’s been through a lot of shit. Consider both your feelings when it comes to whether or not you should reach out to him again, or try to rejoin the con team.”

Edamura’s head was spinning. It was like Ozaki was speaking in riddles. Nothing was clear in the slightest. Which made sense, because it was now 3:45 am, and nothing seemed to make sense after 3 am. Should he reexamine this problem in the morning? 

“I think I’m going to go,” Edamura muttered, voice quiet. “Goodnight, Ozaki.”

“Of course. Goodnight, M-”

Edamura hung up before Oz could finish his sentence, leaving him in an empty, silent flat with nothing but his own thoughts to keep him company. 

What was the purpose of Oz bringing up Dorothy? Did he think that… that Edamura was like Dorothy? In what way? Did Oz know more than Edamura had thought? Well, clearly he  _ did _ if Oz knew that Edamura had quit the group. Why was Ozaki still in the loop if he had quit being a con man?

There were too many questions whirling around in Edamura’s head. He was more confused than ever: about his own feelings, Ozaki’s words, and Laurent’s life. He still hadn’t quite wrapped his head around the fact that Laurent had seriously  _ loved  _ someone. Edamura felt a bit… jealous, surprisingly enough. Why, though? And wasn’t it wrong to be jealous of someone who  _ died _ ?

_ Fuck it _ , Edamura thought, rising from his bed. He wasn’t doing himself any good by just staying inside his flat, mulling over information that didn’t even apply to his current situation. Who cares that it was almost 4 am? Who would text Edamura at this hour? He was an adult. No one would know or care if he went for a leisurely stroll at this hour. Just around the block to shake the cobwebs from his brain. Plus, the rain from earlier had nearly stopped.

Edamura tossed his phone on his bed, right next to the small figurine he had nearly forgotten about. He wouldn’t need to talk to anyone while out, right? After all, Oz wouldn’t text him again after just calling so soon, and who else would really try to reach out to Edamura now that he wasn’t a con man? He was just boring, old, Makoto: doomed to rethink most-likely trivial matters for the rest of eternity. 

When Edamura locked his flat and began to amble out into the open, making his way down the street, he had no idea that his phone would stay sat on his mattress, untouched, for the next few weeks. He had no idea that his apartment would be gathering dust, and his belongings from the plane would stay packed for the foreseeable future. 

And, perhaps most importantly, he had no idea that, precisely two weeks after the apartment had been seemingly abandoned, with no signs of struggle, there would be nine missed calls from a certain worried Frenchman.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on uploading a chapter today, but I'm releasing two this week, and wanted to spread them out. :) Hope you enjoy! This is a longer chapter, so I have only edited it about three times and I tend to miss things. Apologies!
> 
> Also, if you're confused on the timeline, please read the note at the end! Thank you!

_ Laurent, present day  _ (about two weeks since Edamura’s perspective)

As things turned out, it took longer than expected for Laurent to return to normal after the barbaric amounts of alcohol he had drunk. It took even longer for Laurent to tidy up his act and “take a shower,” per Cynthia’s instructions. Eventually, though, a few days later and Laurent was ready to share the details of his latest idea for a con, which was luckily still a while away.

“Good morning, Aby,” Laurent said, meandering out of his room into the hallway of the apartment the group had rented. To be frank, Laurent found the rental a bit… cramped (there were only three rooms, excluding the hallway) but finding a cheap apartment in Las Vegas was a challenge. Plus, Aby claimed that she would much rather sleep on the couch than share a room with Laurent (who was intoxicated more than the half the time) or Cynthia (who, apparently, snored too loudly, which Aby learned from the con in Singapore when they shared a hotel room). “ Cómo estás?”

Aby, who was sprawled out on said couch and flipping through a magazine with a deadpan look on her face, only replied with “It’s 3 pm, asshole.”

Laurent let out a sharp laugh, though he felt a pang of guilt deep inside him. These past couple of weeks, he was so selfish in his actions. He left his team without a leader. 

What was it Team Confidence had always said?  _ “Screw up and we’ll dump you?” _ In Laurent’s eyes, he had screwed up big time, and yet the others didn’t leave him. At least, not yet.

“Ready to _ finally _ share with us the details of the job? Or did you drag us out to Las Vegas just so you could cry in your room for a few more weeks?” Aby prompted, only now bothering to flick her eyes up to stare at Laurent. Any other person would’ve mistaken Aby’s staring as containing malice, but Laurent knew that Aby’s look truly just concealed concern. “I need something to do. Cynthia’s been forcing us to check out all the stores nearby, but if I help her decide between which two dresses look best on her again, I may puke.”

Laurent chuckled, plopping down on the opposite side of the couch. “Ever so straight to the point, dear Abigail.”

“Don’t call me Abigail.”

“Right, right,  _ Aby _ ,” Laurent corrected himself. “Anywho, where is Cynthia? Out shopping again?”

“She left to go buy us coffee. I think she knew you’d be waking up later today. Plus, the instant stuff here is crap.” Aby yawned, running a hand through her short hair. “Like most things in Las Vegas though, real coffee is probably overpriced as all hell. Cynthia didn’t even take her purse with her. Old lady’s gonna figure out sooner or later she’s not everything she used to be in terms of appearance.”

Laurent raised an eyebrow. There was something comforting about Aby conversing with him. The two hadn’t talked much at all recently, what with Laurent being so detached from the real world. “I didn’t realize you had such a vendetta against Vegas, Aby. Perhaps you can use that hatred for the con, hm?”

Aby rolled her eyes. “I think you briefly mentioned who we’re scamming. A casino owner, yeah? What are we, Ocean’s 11?”

“No, sadly. Ocean’s 11 has a much more attractive cast. Matt Damon was simply divine in such a role.”

Aby leaned over to elbow Laurent in the side. “I suppose you’d say that, of all people, since we’re missing who you consider to be the most attractive member out of all of us.”

It took everything inside Laurent to not visibly react to that comment. It was  _ that  _ obvious? Laurent being attracted to Edamura was  _ that _ obvious?

Who was he kidding? Of course it was. He was in a drunken stupor for a long time. Too long. Lord, how the mighty have fallen.

“Yes, well, you know what they say.” Laurent swallowed an awkward lump in his throat, willing himself to appear normal. “There’s a lot more fish in the sea.”

“Yes, but you’re not at the sea right now. In all actuality, you’re far from it. You’re standing in a desert, and the nearest oasis turned out to be an illusion.”

“...Ouch, Aby. Aren’t you fired up today?” Laurent asked, laughing despite how accurate Aby’s words were. “There are a lot of attractive men and women in Vegas, though. Perhaps I, too, should go out and see what this city has to offer.”

“Suit yourself. You won’t find  _ him _ though, no matter how hard you look.”

Laurent flashed a grin, thinly veiling his sarcasm. “And thank  _ fuck _ for that.”

At that precise moment, the door to the apartment swung open, and a practically glowing Cynthia waltzed in, carrying a platter of coffees and pastries. 

“Why, Aby! Good afternoon! And... is that  _ Laurent  _ I see? It couldn’t be. The Laurent  _ I _ know is in hibernation over the loss of his dearly beloved!”

Laurent groaned. Of course, Cynthia had been the one to spread the reality of why he was so down to Aby. He was so stupid to confide in her. “I see you still got it, Cynthia.”

Cynthia smiled, her red lips pursing in pure glee. “The boy at the shop practically pissed himself asking for my number.”

“Is that so? Well, let us share the rewards of having such a truly talented confidence woman who oh so generously won us coffee at the expense of a Starbucks employee’s dignity.”

“Amen,” Aby muttered phasaciously as Cynthia happily handed her a coffee. Laurent’s comment seemed to do nothing to burst Cynthia’s content bubble.

“Vegas is fun, isn’t it, Aby?” Cynthia sighed, dealing a coffee and pain au chocolat out to Laurent. “So many people to scam, so much money involved, such high stakes.”

“It’s a city,” Aby said, voice monotone. “Every city is like this.”

Cynthia frowned. “Not so! Some cities are more boring than others.”

“Do you have favorites?” Aby asked, rolling her eyes yet again.

Cynthia shrugged, stirring her coffee gently. She set the tray of pastries down on the floor, seeing as the apartment had no coffee table. “Paris is fun, but then again, so is LA. Oh, I loved when we went to Singapore!” Cynthia suddenly smirked, glancing conspiratorially at Laurent. “I bet Laurent has a favorite, though. Let me guess… any city that Edamame is in?”

Laurent frowned. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

Cynthia huffed, pretending to be annoyed. She sat daintily on the floor next to the pastries, withdrawing a cheese danish from the plate. In comparison to the other day when Cynthia comforted Laurent, she seemed so…  _ different _ . But, alas, Cynthia was a confidence woman through and through. Her acting skills were above those of Hollywood actors. Laurent silently cursed his drunken self for talking to her. “I tried, okay?”

Laurent nodded. “I’m sure you did. There, there, Cynthia, it’s okay. You simply lack the creative expertise I have that allows me to command a room with the power of humor.”

Aby snorted, nearly choking on her coffee as a result.

Cynthia glared at Laurent, mood completely ruined. “I don’t recall buying you pastries and coffee so that you could make fun of me. Move on to describing the con, thank you.”

“Technically, you didn’t even buy them. You probably just cost some worker his job,” Aby pointed out. Laurent smirked.

Before Cynthia could retort, Laurent opened up his mouth to speak. “Right, right, the con. I was getting to that.” Laurent patted his pockets. “Where’s my phone? It has the blueprints for the casino we’re making a  _ withdrawal _ from.”

“Cynthia told me to hide it when you started asking if you could call Edamame in one of your drunken fits a while ago. Guess you were too out of it to notice,” Aby said, voice dull. “It’s in her room, underneath the mattress.”

Laurent sighed. “You’re seriously about to make me walk all the way to Cynthia’s room? Come on. I just woke up.”

Cynthia turned her head away from Laurent. “Serves you right.”

Laurent sighed, dragging himself to his feet. He chugged down a few sips of coffee before setting the paper cup on the sorry excuse for a carpet.

“I hope your room’s clean,” Laurent called as he sauntered down the hallway. “Wouldn’t want me seeing any personal belongings of yours!”

“Fuck you, pervert!” Came Cynthia’s reply.

Laurent grinned. He missed the casual banter between him and his teammates so, so much that it almost made him forget about Edamura. It reminded him of the old days, before Edamura had joined the team and wiggled his way into all their hearts.

As things turned out, Cynthia's room  _ was _ , indeed, a mess. In fact, it rivaled Laurent’s in terms of cleanliness. The bed was unmade, clothes were tossed at random around the room, and numerous types of makeup were lying on the floor for no apparent reason. Laurent felt like calling out Cynthia on being a hypocrite, but there were no alcohol bottles gracing Cynthia’s chamber, and credit must be given where credit is due.

Laurent, feeling a speck creepy, wandered over to Cynthia's bed to hoist up the mattress. Lo and behold, underneath lay his phone. Laurent reached for it, letting the mattress fall back onto the bed frame. Of course, upon pressing the power button, the phone was revealed to be dead.

Laurent took a deep breath. “Any one of you got a charger?” He called back to Cynthia and Aby.

“What’s the magic word?” Cynthia replied from the other room, clearly enjoying toying with Laurent.

“Depends on what you mean when you say magic,” Laurent swiftly responded. “If I had to guess, I’d say… Shit?”

“What? No!” Cynthia called back, feigning being offended. “How did you even think of that?”

“Shit seems pretty magical to me,” Aby piped up. “Charger’s out here, Laurent. It’s all yours, as long as you don’t try and call Edamame again.”

“ _ Thank you _ and  _ I won’t _ , Aby,” Laurent replied, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice as he strolled back out into the main room. “I am fully aware that Edamura does not desire to speak with me.”

“You weren’t a few days ago,” Aby replied, pointing at the phone charger plugged into a nearby outlet. She had abandoned the magazine in favor of scrolling through her own phone in the timespan Laurent had been gone. 

“I was  _ drunk _ ,” Laurent said, voice perhaps a bit too calm. He stuck his phone into the charger, patiently waiting for it to turn back on. “People do stupid things when they’re drunk.”

“You do stupid things when you’re sober, though,” Cynthia said, frowning.

“Alrighty! That’s quite enough of teaming up against Laurent. Dear me, what did I do to deserve this?”

“Exist,” Aby said, response curt. It was a direct hit, and Laurent’s eyes visibly widened.

“I feel shocked and betrayed,” Laurent said, pressing a hand to his heart. 

Aby didn’t even look up from her phone. “You should.”

Cynthia reached for another pastry. “You know, for all the bickering we get up to, it  _ is _ rather nice to see you up and about, Laurent. You had us worried.”

“I didn’t realize how much Edamura meant to you,” Aby said in agreement with Cynthia. “Come to think of it, I didn’t realize you were capable of multiple human emotions, Laurent. I thought you were just perpetually horny.”

Laurent swallowed another lump in his throat. Holy crap, if he had thought Cynthia and Aby knew nothing about why he was feeling down, boy was he wrong. Laurent cut a glare at Cynthia, who merely shrugged, speaking around a mouthful of flaky danish.

“Don’t look at me. This house is tiny. Word travels fast, Thierry.”

Laurent sighed, feeling as if his soul were leaving his body. He was dead. He was deceased. The relentless teasing would never end. Aby would never let him hear the end of how he felt for Edamura.

“It did take a lot to do what you did, though. It shows how much you care about him: the fact that you let him choose for himself what he wants,  _ finally _ .” Aby still didn’t look up from her phone. Laurent was beginning to wonder what was so fascinating on her screen. “In my humble opinion, Edamame deserves someone better than you, but who knows? Maybe you falling for him could be the character development you need to make you less of an ass.”

Laurent stared at Aby. If this were a cartoon, there’d be a giant question mark above Laurent’s head. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

Aby shrugged. “Take it or leave it.”

In the corner of the room, Laurent’s phone beeped, signaling it had been successfully revived. From that point, the phone continued to let out a chorus of chirps and other, high-pitched noises.

“ _ Jesus _ , Laurent. How many people do you normally flirt with on a daily basis?” Cynthia asked as the phone continued to blow up. Laurent frowned, tilting his head to the side. He walked over to crouch in front of the outlet. Besides a couple of texts from Ozaki, who he had discussed Edamura leaving a while ago with, the source of the phone exploding was a single unknown number, which had apparently called Laurent around twenty times. 

“They’re not from any number I know, surprisingly enough,” Laurent replied. “And last I checked, I don’t offer my services to just anyone.”

“I bet you would if it was Edamame,” Aby said, the corners of her mouth tilting up into a smile as Laurent’s cheeks faintly blushed crimson.

Cynthia ignored Aby. “Did this mysterious caller leave any voicemails? Perhaps it’s from a former partner of yours, desperate to get back together with the fantastic Laurent Thierry. Or from someone you scammed, eager to get you behind bars. If you ask for my opinion, I believe the second to be more likely.”

Laurent narrowed his gaze. “No one asked for your opinion, Cynthia. But, yes, they did leave a voicemail. Just one.”

“Well, don’t leave us in the dark,” Cynthia said casually, gesturing for Laurent to play the message. “Put it on speaker for all of us to hear! It could involve the whole team, you know.”

Laurent rolled his eyes. “Doubtful.” Nevertheless, he put the voicemail on speaker and pressed play: the sound of a man speaking filling the room. 

“Laurent Thierry,” the voice spoke. The static was beyond loud, and Laurent found himself wincing. The quality of this audio message was truly terrible. What a disgrace to modern technology. “The man who brought down the Cassano family, the Ibrahim brothers, and many more. The man who can single-handedly destroy someone’s life’s work.”

“Don’t we get any credit?” Cynthia muttered.

“You deserve what’s coming for you, Laurent,” the voice continued, sounding like it was echoing off several metal walls.  _ Was the person in a warehouse? And was that static… rain? _ “You take and you take, Laurent Thierry. And now, I’ve taken something that  _ you _ want. Now, it’s your turn to be destroyed.”

In the background of the call, there was a heavy thud, and an audible grunt. Laurent’s eyes widened. His blood ran cold. Aby looked up from her phone, and Cynthia froze, pastry halfway to her mouth.

“Want to say hi to him, Laurent?” The voice let out a sickly laugh. “He’s right here. Has been here for some time now, actually. Come now, Edamura. Say hi to your boyfriend. Laurent misses you.” The voice spoke his name with a hatred so deep that Laurent shivered.

“Let me go!” Edamura yelled, voice slightly muffled. “Get away! I… I didn’t do anything!”

The voice chuckled yet again. “Japan’s top con artist. He’s feisty, I’ll give you that. I quite like him. See, at first we thought you’d come for him, which is why we’ve had him for just a little over a week now. But then we realized that your little boyfriend ran away, apparently. Or… you let him go, perhaps? Nonetheless, he’s with me now. Lock him back up.” Edamura’s muffled cries were heard as he was dragged off. “Oh, you should’ve heard him, Laurent. The first couple of nights he cried in his sleep. He asked for you, actually. One of my men caught him calling out while unconscious. Like he thought you were some hero who could save him. Little did he know that you’re the  _ villain _ .”

Laurent dropped his phone, which bounced softly on the carpet. A choked sob bubbled out of his chest. Even when he wasn’t around Edamura, he still brought pain and suffering to him. Useless. He was useless. Everything was his fault.  _ Who were these people, even? Why did they have Edamura? How could they have known of Laurent’s feelings for him? _

“If you want to see him again, Laurent, you’ll come to Tokyo. You’ll meet us at Haneda Airport, terminal 3. In front of the stop for the shuttle bus. You’ll come alone in 6 days. And you’ll trade your life for his.” The voice paused, as if contemplating something. “See, the thing is, Laurent, I know you care for your teammates. I know your lot prides themselves on their ‘independence,’ but deep down? You’re just a bunch of broken souls. And you’re their leader; you have the most broken soul of all. So I know you feel responsible, dear Laurent. I look forward to seeing you in 6 days.”

The voicemail was from three days ago, approximately one and a half weeks after Edamura had left for Japan. The days Laurent had spent drinking and feeling pity for himself could’ve been spent trying to save Edamura earlier. 

_ Maybe this is a scam _ , Laurent thought, navigating quickly to Edamura’s contact and frantically pressing the call button. When Edamura didn’t pick up, he called again, and again, and again, and again, and four more times until Aby reached out a hand to stop him.  _ When did she get so close? Wasn’t she just on the couch?  _

“This can’t be happening,” Laurent muttered, raking a hand through his hair. “I- I have to go to Japan. I have to save him. He’s going to die. Edamame’s going to die, and it’s all going to be my fault.”

Cynthia stood, dusting off her skirt and setting her pastry down. She took a few tentative steps towards Laurent. “We… we don’t even know who these people are, Thierry,” she reminded Laurent gently, as if he had forgotten that the number read  _ unknown. _ “They could kill  _ you _ if you go in without a plan. Think this through.”

“I… I…” Laurent shook his head. It was hopeless. Fucking hopeless. He had no other option. He was at his wit’s end. And he- he-

A sudden slap on his face brought him back to reality. Laurent’s eyes focused on Aby, widening in shock. Time seemed to slow.

“Think your actions through.” Aby’s voice was low, threatening even. “Whoever these people are, they’re appealing to your weaknesses. Get your head out of the clouds, Laurent, and pull yourself together. Edamame doesn’t need some weak, naive child going in to save him. He needs the best the confidence world has to offer, and that’s you.”

Laurent was silent, hanging his head low in shame. Cynthia said nothing, but her eyes appeared to be more watery than usual. 

“We hold off the current con,” Aby said, her voice still even somehow. “Cynthia, call up some of our contacts in Japan. We’re not going into this fight blind. And Laurent… just, just hold tight, okay?”

Laurent lifted his head. He met Aby’s gaze with as much conviction as he could muster. When he spoke, his voice didn’t sound like him at all. It was like he had abandoned his sorrow, and anger had promptly replaced it. The mood in the room had completely shifted in a matter of mere minutes. 

“We both know you can’t keep me from going on my own,” Laurent said, his mouth twisting into a grin, despite the situation. It was a grin poisoned with fury. Fury at whoever had dared touch Edamura.

Aby’s brow furrowed, and her lips twisted into a grimace. “I can try.”

And then, Cynthia was there, pulling the two apart. Both Laurent and Aby looked to her, stunned, as if expecting her to stay silent and not act as the mediator. 

“Let him go, Aby,” Cynthia said. Her voice wasn’t quiet, but there was a heaviness to it. A heaviness that thoroughly expressed just how serious Cynthia was taking this. “I… I trust Laurent.”

Aby looked at Cynthia as if she were mad, and perhaps on some level, she was. “ _ This _ Laurent? The Laurent that’s been crying in his bed for about two weeks, drunk and depressed?”

Cynthia shook her head. Her hair hung in her eyes. Laurent was speechless, stunned by this display of trust and honest belief in himself. 

“I trust in the Laurent that always has a plan,” Cynthia continued. “I trust in the Laurent that trusts in himself. I trust in the Laurent that has saved our asses an infinite amount of times, despite acting like a cocky bastard while doing so. I trust in the leader of Team Confidence.”

Aby huffed. She looked Laurent up and down, as if examining him. 

“...Four days.”

Laurent frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. If you don't contact us in four days, we’re coming to find you and Edamame,” Aby said casually. “I’m not letting you sacrifice yourself for him. There has to be a better way.”

Laurent’s gaze softened. Cynthia looked up, smiling gently, though her eyes still seemed watery. “Thank you, Aby.” 

Aby waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah. Thank me later. We have to get you to the airport. I take it you got things from there?”

Laurent nodded. 

“What’re you going to do to protect yourself?” Aby asked, placing her hands on her hip. “You’re charging into what is clearly a trap. How’re you getting out of this, Laurent?”

Laurent shrugged, running a hand sheepishly through his hair. “I guess I’ll think of something on the plane.”

Aby gritted her teeth. “I’m regretting my choice to let you go.”

“At least let us help you pack,” Cynthia chimed in. “And please do say hi to dear Edamame for us.”

Laurent bobbed his head  _ yes _ yet again. “I will.”

“Good,” Cynthia said. “Oh, and Laurent? One last thing.”

Laurent raised his eyebrows, intending to come across as pleasantly confused. “And that is?”

“Under no circumstances are you allowed to die. You got that? Or else I’ll personally bring you back from the dead and kick your stubborn, stupid butt myself.”

Laurent cracked a smile, despite the situation. He truly was madly in love, wasn’t he? To charge into what was so clearly a trap just in the hopes of saving the man who couldn’t possibly love him back. To try and free a dove from a cage of iron. “Understood, Cynthia.”

“Wonderful,” Aby commented, voice as dry as ever. “Now, let’s get packing to send you off. We have to find something for you to protect yourself with. We’ll look up plane flights today, and after that? You have to bring him back. For all of us. And, most importantly? For his own sake.”

Laurent took a deep breath. He met Aby’s gaze, and then Cynthias.

And then he thought of Edamura, trapped in some warehouse for about two weeks now.

Laurent balled his hands into fists, shaking with rage. This was his fight. Whatever the issue the strange group that kidnapped Edamura had with Laurent, they had with him and him  _ alone _ . 

And he was going to make sure they knew that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! So, I'm aware the timeline is confusing, so here's the breakdown of events before the next few chapters and shit goes down:
> 
> -Edamura returns to Japan 1.5 weeks before the prologue, or Laurent's perspective, and is then kidnapped that very night he returned.  
> -Kidnappers call Laurent after about 1.5 weeks after realizing Laurent isn't coming to save Edamura on his own. Laurent doesn't receive this call, as he's drunk and doesn't have his phone on him, which is discussed in this chapter.  
> -Laurent listens to kidnapper's call approximately 2 weeks after Edamura was taken when he's sober and get's phone back.  
> -Seeing as the kidnappers called Laurent 1.5 weeks after the first chapter in Edamura's perspective, or 3 days ago since a few days have passed, Laurent now has 3 days before the kidnappers want to meet him to exchange his life for Edamura's.  
> Basically, Edamura's been kidnapped two weeks without Laurent's knowledge, and Laurent is expected to meet the kidnappers in 3 days. Hope this cleared stuff up!
> 
> Another thing to note; I am aware there are multiple ways to spell Aby's name, so sorry if that was confusing. I go off the Great Pretender Wiki page. She's one of my favorite characters. :D


	7. ANOTHER Announcement (I know, I'm the worst, please forgive me)

Salutations wonderful readers! Just a quick update today; feel free to ignore this if you want, no worries. :) Slight trigger warning for talk of anxiety. <3

So, I had an extreme panic attack the other day, resulting in me not being able to edit the most recent chapter in time for tonight's upload. On top of that, I have now been sat at my computer filling out work for about (pauses to check clock) 11 or 12 hours now? Needless to say, I can feel more anxiety beginning to set in, so I'm writing this in advance.

If you're asking yourself, "Oliver, why didn't you save the chapter you published earlier this week for tonight?" well then, that is a very valid question, and my response to that is that I am not the brightest. I also didn't anticipate my anxiety to attack in full force after a meeting with my therapist. I apologize for this.

So, that said, in short, Like a Dove will now be updating tomorrow at 9:30 pm EST, leaving me time to edit tomorrow afternoon if I finish my work. 

I appreciate you lovely readers for reading Like a Dove, and I hope you enjoy it so far. Once more, I apologize. 

See you tomorrow at 9:30 pm EST! Take care of yourselves <3

\--Oliver (a_silhouette_against_the_stars)


	8. Chapter 8

_Edamura, present day_

If you were to tell Edamura, before he left Team Confidence, that future Makoto would be kidnapped and held hostage by some twisted group hellbent on extracting some sort of revenge from a certain blond bastard, Edamura would’ve willingly joined their cause. After all, Laurent had always messed with Edamura; Edamura had been deceived, blatantly told lies, and tricked by the Frenchman. In the past, when working with Laurent on cons, sometimes Edamura found himself cursing the other’s name underneath his breath: blaming Laurent for all his issues, for every single drop of misfortune. 

If you were to tell Edamura immediately _after_ he left Team Confidence though, well, that’s another story entirely. In the time he had been gone from the team, Edamura had strangely begun to miss Laurent’s stupid, smug face. _Why was that?_

Experts say hate and love are similar. But, alas, despite his annoyance at the Frenchman, Edamura never _hated_ Laurent. He only convinced himself he did. 

In fact, at the very core of his being, Edamura admired Laurent a lot; he was clever, poised, and he always kept a smile on his face. Laurent was cool, calm, and collected, whereas sometimes Edamura’s temper got out of control, like a wild beast that simply refused to be tamed.

Just two weeks ago, Edamura had gone for a walk. He was trying to clear his head. He was trying to think, to decipher the full extent of his feelings, to mull over what Ozaki had said. In those early morning hours, where shadows seemed as alive as one’s own neighbor, at first, Edamura thought he had hallucinated the figures. Edamura thought he had hallucinated the car, the long ride to the abandoned warehouse. In all actuality, Makoto’s memory of that incident was hazy; he remembered a lot of his own yelling, a lot of cursing, and finally, a lot of regret.

Then he remembered the filth. Wherever he was (because at the time, Edamura didn’t know) hadn’t been cleaned in centuries. It was dirty, but did the kidnappers care? Makoto had hardly even heard them speak. The most he heard was when one of the kidnappers -- their leader perhaps -- called Laurent.

Half of Edamura wanted Laurent to pick up the phone, just so Makoto could hear his voice. The other half was thankful Laurent didn’t care enough to pick up. Because if Laurent did, then that meant he truly did care about Edamura, and that would only make matters worse.

Edamura shouldn’t have yelled when one of the kidnappers was recording the voicemail. He knew he shouldn’t have. And yet, he felt compelled to. His voice was muffled from the sound of the rain pounding on the roof, but that didn’t stop him. Edamura let his temper flare: anger at the anonymous group of kidnappers, anger at Laurent, anger at Ozaki, anger at himself, and anger at the world.

_“Let me go! Get away! I… I didn’t do anything!”_

To this day, Edamura still had no idea how the strange group had even obtained Laurent’s number; the Frenchman had his ways of staying hidden. In fact, Edamura still didn’t even have a _name_ for the group, which made him worried; if Edamura knew this little about this peculiar organization even though he actually made contact with them, Team Confidence probably knew next to nothing as well.

Who was he kidding, though? They wouldn’t come for him. He had _left_ Team Confidence. And that was that.

The first thing the kidnappers did upon arriving at the destination -- which would be where Edamura stayed for the foreseeable future -- was strip him of any personal belongings, leaving only his clothes. His keys, a few spare bills in his pocket, and several gum wrappers were all lost to the anonymous group now. The second thing the kidnappers did was lead Edamura into his new living area, which consisted of a small room with boarded-up windows and guards stationed at a locked door.

For the first few nights, Edamura could vaguely recall banging on the locked door after being thrown into the room. At one point he was demanding to be released, the next he was yelling, and then soon after pleading. Eventually, Edamura tried to escape out the window, only to find that he didn’t possess the arm strength necessary to pry the boards off said window panes. After a couple of days, Edamura stopped trying to brainstorm ways to get out of the situation; he still yelled, he still pleaded, but on top of that, he also _dreamed_ , for inside one’s brain is an endless realm of possibilities. Inside Edamura’s brain, he didn’t have to be kept in a disgusting warehouse.

Edamura dreamed about him, on those nights he was lying alone on the floor of the warehouse room, praying for sleep. He _thought_ about Laurent. He thought about Laurent laughing, a flute of champagne in his hand after a successful con. He thought about Laurent visiting Edamura at the sushi restaurant he worked at in France, casting a sly glance his way. He thought about Laurent sketching in a giant notepad, claiming that he simply wanted to capture the beauty of whoever had caught his eyes. He thought about Laurent calling him _“Edamame,”_ looking at Edamura like he was one of those beautiful people he sketched. Edamura only briefly thought about the lies Laurent had told him. He had contemplated those too many times prior.

How long? How many weeks had Edamura been in this dingy, filthy room, kept in the dark, dreaming of a man he certainly had some sort of feelings for? It seemed like only a short time. Or long, depending. Time seemed to escape Makoto, as of recently.

Maybe it was because he was kidnapped, surrounded by things he wasn’t used to. Yes, that was the only explanation. Makoto _certainly_ didn’t normally miss Laurent like this.

_Or did he?_

He remembered some of their first meetings. Laurent had been annoying, to say the least, and Edamura had been stubborn. He remembered trying on suits in front of a mirror, Laurent a bit too close for Edamura’s comfort, but also not close _enough_.

Perhaps these feelings of Edamura’s, whatever they may be, began to take root then. Maybe Edamura was simply blind to it.

To be perfectly clear, it wasn’t the fact that Laurent is male that irked Edamura about the possibility of possessing romantic emotions towards him; Edamura’s mom, growing up, had repeatedly told him to just follow your heart, wherever it takes you. She truly just wanted the best for Makoto. 

What was holding Edamura back from calling what he felt for Laurent what it is, then? Laurent, for all his mistakes and all the times that he had lied, wasn’t a bad person. He always had good intentions at heart. And the thing was, there was _more_ to Laurent that Makoto wasn’t seeing. Was the “more” good though, or was it bad? _Was life ever so clear?_

Edamura wanted to ask Laurent more about Dorothy. He wanted to know more, and that terrified the _fuck_ out of him.

Maybe it was due to the fact that Edamura hadn’t felt this intense about another until meeting Laurent. Sure, there were boys he found quite attractive, but none of them had the power to make him blush with just a single look, or heaven forbid make him break the law.

Dorothy probably knew more about Laurent than Edamura. And that absolutely infuriated him. 

But… still, to think that had been hanging over Laurent’s head throughout all the cons they had committed… Dorothy’s death had to leave a mark. 

A sudden noise tore Edamura away from his thoughts. The locked door was opening, ever so slightly. This happened once a day when the guards came in to give Edamura sustenance, which was typically some form of stale bread with a few sips of water. The first few days, Edamura refused the offerings, but now, with no idea as to how longer he would be in this warehouse, he had no other option.

It was terrible. To have to sit here and wait and pray that someone would come. Not Laurent, though. _Never_ Laurent. Because, if what one of the kidnappers said on the phone was true, Laurent had done something really stupid to really piss this group off.

Edamura wondered just what Laurent had done, specifically. He supposed if he lived he could end up asking Ozaki. He also wondered just how long Team Confidence had been watched by this anonymous group. They certainly wasted no time in abducting Edamura, as soon as he was alone.

Would this have happened if he was with the team, still? Or would they -- Cynthia, Laurent, Aby, and himself -- gone on to carry out cons as usual, oblivious as ever?

Edamura sighed, rubbing his head as a headache began. The guard that passed him food was already gone. Over time, Edamura’s eyes had adjusted to being in such a dark room; the first few days though, he couldn’t see shit.

Makoto stood, his legs slightly wobbly, and all but dragged himself to the doorway. He was spot on in his assumption; it was, indeed, a slice of some bread, paired with a shallow bowl of water. Trying not to appear too eager, Edamura fell to the floor, pulling the bowl close to quench his parched throat.

Edamura remembered the first con he had pulled with Laurent, the one involving Sakura magic. One night, Laurent had treated Aby and Edamura to lobster as a way of going over the details of the con. It was the first true “group” outing, even though Cynthia wasn’t there. Edamura recalled stubbornly refusing to eat, refusing to give the blond bastard the satisfaction of _needing_ something of his. Alas, his hunger was too great, and he ended up all but devouring the lobster.

When Edamura bit into the dry, tasteless bread, he imagined he was biting into the buttery, salty lobster he had that night with Laurent. He imagined he was back at that restaurant, the sun setting, the promise of a completed con with quality payment on the distant horizon. 

As of late, Edamura found himself sucked into more and more of these recollections. When he did sleep, it was only in short bursts; he cried out at night, to the extent that he woke _himself_ up. It was truly a vicious cycle.

At least, in the dark, filthy room, there was no one to judge Edamura. Because it was time. It was time to admit what had always been true; he didn’t just miss Laurent, not like he missed Cynthia and Aby. 

Deep down, Edamura knew this had always been the case. Funny. Edamura thought he had been pulling cons on others this whole time, when in all actuality, he was just duping himself.

  
He loves Laurent. If he didn’t confront that fact now, he never would. Edamura _loves_ Laurent: the way he runs his fingers through his messy, blond hair. The way he looks illuminated in the evening sunset, eyes gleaming with determination.

Edamura doesn’t hate Laurent. He never has. He never will. Rather, he hated himself for letting himself love a man he could never have. There were too many variables, too many factors, and for _fuck’s sake_ , Edamura was still in this blasted, nasty warehouse.

Edamura was now done eating. With a sigh, he allowed himself to lie on the musty floor of the small room, staring up at the ceiling overhead. He closed his eyes, allowing the daydreams to take over.

Inside this small room, no one cared. No one cared about him, about his likes, or dislikes, or his personality, or who he even _was_. Because inside this room was only Edamura and his thoughts.

And that’s why Edamura allowed himself the pleasure of imagining Laurent lying down next to him. The ceiling, in Edamura’s mind, transformed into the open night sky: speckled with an endless expanse of stars and galaxies. The light of the cosmos was reflected in Laurent’s eyes, but his face was turned ever so slightly towards Edamura. He was smiling. And Laurent fingers, warm and soft, interlaced with Makoto’s.

If Edamura kept his eyes closed for long enough, it all seemed so, so real. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooooo I hope y'all like this chapter, I'll look it over tomorrow morning again for spelling issues but right now I am a tired gay and plan to go pass out  
> take care lovelies <3


	9. Halfway point and thank you for 100 kudos! <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halfway point; from this chapter, we are roughly halfway through the plot! And, as such, I’d like to thank the lovely people who have read this with a brief intermission! (Also, holy crap, over 100 kudos?! That’s wild! Thank y’all so much!!) <3
> 
> The next few chapters nearly broke me, so I wanted to write something lighthearted and fluffy to prepare for the angst. IN NO WAY is this related to the plot. This does not affect anything in the main storyline. Readers who wish to skip this chapter and just wait for the main plot to come out can feel free to do so.
> 
> For all purposes, this brief story is essentially a miniature tale that can stand on its own. Again, I just incorporated it to have something happy before the angst overload. That is why I’m not uploading this on a Thursday.
> 
> The basic plot is that Edamura and Laurent spend some time being adorable in Paris. That's it; again, this is just to ease the angst of the next few chapters.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

A Day in Paris

Edamura narrowed his eyes, gazing intently at Laurent for any sign of the other’s approval or disapproval. His hands were gripping the edges of the table, and he was leaning forward ever so slightly. All of his attention was directed at Laurent, who, to his credit, tried extremely hard not to notice Edamura’s stare. In all actuality though, the Frenchman found the whole situation rather amusing.

“Nope. Sorry, Edamame, but this cup of coffee tastes no different than any of the others you forced me to try.” Laurent shrugged nonchalantly, setting the mug of said coffee down on the table. “I’m not a coffee nerd like you. I like it, but the brand names mean next to nothing to me.”

Edamura’s eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. “What?! But… but this is the best coffee shop in Paris! Their French brew is divine! Your taste buds are so uncultured!!”

Laurent quirked an eyebrow, smirking ever so slightly. He lowered his voice. “You know who _else’s_ French brew is divine?”

Edamura frowned, tilting his head in confusion. Then, realization dawned on his face, which burst into hot flames of embarrassment.

“You horny bastard! We’re in a public place! And I’m paying for your coffee with my own money! You should be thankful, you know!”

Laurent waved a hand dismissively, leaning back in his chair. “Yes, yes, I’m so very thankful, dear Edamame. I count my blessings everyday, and one of them is that I have such an amazing boyfriend to teach me about quality coffee. But -- and I do hate to say this -- you should heed your own words. We are indeed in a public place, and your squawking is beginning to attract peculiar looks from fellow, more _mundane_ coffee enthusiasts.”

Edamura cast a glance around the café, confirming Laurent’s statement. Several individuals, including the barista, were openly staring at Edamura. It was evident that they had overheard him and his boyfriend’s whole conversation.

“Whatever,” Edamura mumbled, trying to avoid the eye contact of the other’s in the shop. “I don’t even know these people. It’s fine.” Nonetheless, he stuck his hand into his jacket’s pocket, digging around for his wallet. “On a completely unrelated note, I could really use some fresh air. Ready to leave?”

Laurent smiled fondly at Edamura. He was so predictable. “If you say so. I thought the coffee this place had was ‘divine,’ though? Wouldn’t you like to treat yourself to another cup while we’re here in France?”

“It’s okay. I’ve had better,” Edamura said hastily. _Shit, where was his wallet? Did he forget it at the hotel?_ “One second. I’m sure my wallet’s here somewhere…”

“Allow me.” In a matter of seconds, Laurent had withdrawn a wad of cash from his pocket and waved at the barista. The Frenchman stood and stuck the cash -- which was easily more than the two cups of coffees and pastries had cost -- on the table, underneath his plate. “Keep the change,” Laurent called to the barista, who nodded in dumbfounded silence.

Edamura hesitated, still seated at the table. Guilt washed over him. _Why did it seem like Laurent was always taking care of him?_ “Are- are you sure you can pay for that? I promised I would.”

Laurent grinned down at Edamura, earning a slight blush from the other. “But of course! Anything for my sweet Edamame.” He offered his hand to his significant other.

Edamura rolled his eyes. “You’re such a weirdo,” he mumbled, yet took Laurent’s hand anyway. Their fingers locked together nicely, just like they had dozens of times before. Strangely enough, though, Edamura never stopped getting butterflies, even just from this slight touch. 

Laurent led the way out of the quaint coffee shop onto the sidewalk of the city, where the two strolled side by side, pressed closely to one another. Laurent had wanted to visit Paris again, and Edamura never passed up an opportunity to try new blends of coffee abroad, so that’s where the two had been for the past week. In a month or so, they had another con planned with Cynthia, Aby, Shi-won, and Kudo, but for now, Laurent and Edamura could finally get some time together to just relax. Plus, as compared to the last time the two had visited France, it was nice and warm out, with no need for anything more than a light jacket.

“Hey, Edamame?”

“Hm?”

“Mind if we make a quick detour? The Pont-Neuf is right nearby. It’s the oldest bridge across the river Seine. I quite love the view. Plus, the historical aspect of it is fascinating.”

Edamura laughed. One of the things he had learned while dating Laurent was that the Frenchman actually really enjoyed history. When he was younger, as well as studying to be a diplomat, apparently Laurent had a fascination with the historical significance behind older-style architecture. That fascination had never truly left him. 

“You’ll have to tell me about it.” Edamura squeezed Laurent’s hand gently. “My area of expertise is only coffee. In history, I’m lacking.”

Laurent shook his head. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re one of the most perceptive and intelligent people I’ve ever met. Not to mention, the most attractive.”

Edamura’s face heated up yet again. Holy crap, how did Laurent keep _doing_ that?

Laurent smirked knowingly. The couple continued down the street, until eventually the Pont-Neuf was visible in the distance. There were only a few other couples milling around as well, admiring the view of the river Seine under the afternoon sunshine.

“Right! Onto the history of the bridge. The decision to begin construction happened in 1577 by King Henri III, actually. It’s practically ancient.” Laurent began. “Do you know _why_ the King had it built? It’s fairly straightforward. Travel convenience, really. Plus, the bridge is quite impressive, no?”

Edamura nodded along, though he was only partially listening. While Laurent continued talking, Edamura stared at the Frenchman. He loved watching his boyfriend ramble on about the things he was passionate about; it was like there was this whole other side to him, a side Edamura was trustworthy enough to witness. 

The sides of Laurent sometimes seemed so different that it was difficult to believe that this man, the one currently ranting about the history of a famous bridge, was the same blond bastard who came up with all the wild ideas on how to scam others. Underneath the bright light of the sun, blue eyes the same shade as the river flowing below the bridge the couple walked on, Laurent seemed so animated, so excited. It was a rarity to not see Laurent acting like a cocky bastard.

“Edamame? Earth to Edamame!”

Edamura snapped out of his daze. Laurent was suddenly very close to him -- closer than before -- tilting his head to the side in a quizzical manner.

“Man, I had no idea my history lessons were that boring!” Laurent chuckled. "Pardonne-moi, mon amour.” Laurent moved ever closer to press his soft lips to Edamura’s forehead in an apologetic manner.

“Oh, no! No, it’s not that! It’s the furthest thing from that, actually!” Edamura said, blushing furiously. His forehead tingled where Laurent had kissed it. “I- I was just thinking that I like, uh… listening to you talk about your interests. It’s… it’s kind of adorable, actually.”

Laurent’s eyes widened, looking momentarily stunned. Then, his expression melted into one of pure bliss. He looked at Edamura as if the other were his whole world, and -- especially in that moment -- he was.

“Why, no one has ever said that before. Merci, mon amour.”

Edamura looked away, blinking madly. “Don’t- don’t mention it. I just like seeing you happy, I guess.”

Laurent let out a chuckle. Subconsciously, his thumb began to trace circles on the back of Edamura’s palm. It was yet another habit Laurent had that Edamura only became aware of after they started dating.

“Why wouldn’t I be happy right now, my dear Edamame?” Laurent asked. “I’m energized, thanks to that stop at the café. The sun is shining, and the Seine river is looking especially gorgeous today. And, who do I have the absolute pleasure of spending this wondrous time away with? My favorite person in the whole world.” Laurent practically beamed at Edamura. Edamura always found Laurent’s smiles to be highly contagious, and soon enough, a grin was spreading on his own face.

Laurent’s cheery personality always did that to Edamura. That is to say, Laurent lifted Edamura’s spirits and made him more apt to laugh, rather than cry. Edamura hadn’t realized it for the longest time, but Laurent truly cared for the other. Though the two may have had a rough, confusing start, they made things work. No, they did better than that; the couple _thrived_. Whether through cons or through something else, Edamura and Laurent had developed a sort of understanding. They just knew what the other needed and when.

For example, when Edamura first started dating Laurent, he was constantly worried about their relationship. Incredibly worried. After all, what if he wasn’t enough for Laurent? What if he was too plain, too boring, or too annoying? Laurent, rather quickly, had caught onto Edamura’s anxiety; after all, the Frenchman was a master at reading other’s mannerisms. From there, Laurent and Edamura had discussed Edamura’s feelings, and Laurent had done his best to address them. 

In that moment, Edamura needed reassurance. He needed reassurance that Laurent was with him. And Laurent had given it to him.

The same could be said in reverse, though; Laurent sometimes needed to be reminded that he wasn’t alone, that Edamura would listen to whatever was going on in the Frenchman’s head so that they could work through it together. And Laurent tried his best not to take that reassurance for granted.

In short, Edamura and Laurent simply compliment one another. They brought out the best in each other, while still addressing and finding healthy ways to deal with the worst. It had taken time, effort, and an infinite amount of patience, but the two had made it work.

“You’re doing it again, you know,” Laurent prompted gently, softly nudging Edamura’s shoulder with his own. 

Edamura blinked rapidly. “Doing what?”

“Zoning out. Staring at me, looking all serious.”

Edamura smirked. He often got lost in thought, especially when it came to Laurent. “I was just trying to savor the moment, asshole.”

“Woah there, such rude language! I never said you zoning out was a bad thing. It’s just a rather stark contrast, as compared to you rambling on about coffee.”

Edamura rolled his eyes playfully. “I was just thinking about how lucky I am.”

“Oh?” Laurent looked intrigued. The two had paused for a moment to look out at the water and were now leaning on the brick side of the Pont-Neuf. Their hands were still clasped together; both were reluctant to let go. “Do tell me more.”

Edamura shook his head. For all he loved Laurent, he greatly enjoyed teasing the other. “I don’t need your ego to inflate anymore.”

“Ouch. Though, I suppose on some level that comment is warranted.”

“On some level,” Edamura echoed.

The two lapsed into a comfortable silence, save for the sound of the water below and a flock of tourists snapping photos with a vintage, Polaroid camera. Edamura took a deep breath, savoring this day. Not every moment was this calm. Some, specifically the ones where Laurent and Edamura were taking part in a con, could be hectic, and Edamura greatly valued the time he got to spend with just his boyfriend alone.

Finally, Laurent broke the silence. The sun dipped ever so slightly lower in the sky, signaling that it was probably time to wander back to the hotel Edamura and Laurent were staying in, which was a fair trek away. “Suppose we should head back now, hm? I’m terrible with a map, and I imagine I’m even worse at night.”

Edamura nodded, albeit a bit hesitant. He didn’t want this moment to end. At least, not yet.

“Wait,” Edamura said, taking another slow, methodical breath. “There’s something I want to do first.”

“Oh? And that is?”

Edamura turned so he was entirely facing Laurent. Even now, Laurent was still taller than he was, but Edamura would make it work. So, madly blushing, Edamura spit out the words. Even after all this time, somehow, Edamura still got embarrassed around Laurent. 

“Can I kiss you, Laurent?”

The Frenchman broke into an easy smile. Rather than verbally reply, he simply leaned down and pressed his lips tenderly against Edamura’s.

The answer was, of course, a yes.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning! This chapter includes canon-typical violence. (Including guns, knives, etcetera)
> 
> For those who don't want to read this chapter due to possible triggers, I'll do a summary at the end. :)

_Laurent, present day_

The plane ride to Tokyo was what made Laurent more anxious than anything. After all, it was roughly 14 hours long from Vegas. 14 long, sleepless hours that Laurent spent attempting to maintain a calm composure. 14 hours closer to the mysterious group’s deadline. And 14 more hours Edamura had to spend in the clutches of kidnappers.

In all actuality, Laurent was lucky, he supposed. Cynthia was able to find him a flight to Tokyo within a matter of minutes after listening to the voicemail the thugs had left. The plan was for Laurent to arrive at Narita airport at least two days before the kidnapper’s deadline. Team Confidence had briefly contemplated sending Laurent to Haneda airport, where he was supposed to meet the shady group to exchange his life for Edamura’s, but it was likely the kidnappers had lookouts there, should Laurent arrive ahead of time.

Nonetheless, flying to any airport in Tokyo was probably still risky, given the circumstances. It was clear the anonymous group had been tailing Laurent for a long time. Even if he were arriving at Narita airport instead of Haneda, and even if he was wearing a “disguise” -- which consisted of glasses, a beanie, and whatever clothes Aby was able to find at a local thrift store on such short notice -- it was still a possibility that Laurent could be spotted by the kidnappers, especially since he wasn’t sure who to look for. Spies could be anywhere; he was truly going in blind. 

In the past few hours, Aby and Cynthia had reported that they both couldn’t find out anything about the strange group, really, which was more than an oddity. Team Confidence’s contacts in Japan weren’t able to trace the call from the group to a precise location. Theoretically, Edamura could’ve been kept _anywhere._

If all else failed though, and Laurent was recognized by the kidnappers even with the precautions the group had taken, there was a gun tucked into the front pocket of his coat. After a brief discussion, Cynthia and Aby had both deemed the weapon necessary to take, should it come to that. It had been a challenge sneaking it aboard the plane, but years in the business of being a confidence man hadn’t left Laurent completely clueless. 

That said, Laurent prayed to whatever god who would listen that he wouldn’t have to use the thing.

Once he got to Japan, the plan was for Laurent to take a cab to Haneda airport and scope out the scene from afar and look for any clues as to where Edamura had gone. From there, Laurent would… he would… well, he hadn’t thought that far ahead yet, in all actuality. Everything had happened far too quickly for Laurent’s liking, leaving his head dizzy and struggling to piece together the events of the past few hours. The Frenchman was running on an unhealthy mixture of coffee, anxiety, and adrenaline.

Laurent had started a timer on his watch counting down from the moment he was supposed to save Edamura. By the end of this plane ride, he estimated that there would be about 55 hours left before it was time to make the exchange for his life. If all else failed, Laurent _would_ go through with the exchange. Cynthia, Aby, and Edamura would all collectively hate him for it, but maybe that was for the better.

Laurent propped his head up on his elbow, which rested on the plastic armchair of his seat. As he stared out the small, oval window overlooking the clouds that the plane passed over, Laurent wondered if Edamura would be angry at him for leading him into such a situation. After all, it was Laurent’s foolish actions that pissed off whoever had abducted Edamura. 

Laurent pinched his forehead, grimacing as he cursed himself for being so fucking _stupid_ . If he had just let Edamura go sooner, if he just let the other decide what he wanted for _himself_ before it was too late, then maybe Makoto wouldn’t have been taken in the first place. Maybe, in another universe, Edamura would have been living a normal life. If Laurent hadn’t come around, screwed things up, and gotten Edamura involved with cons even _after_ Makoto had been in jail, maybe Edamura would be content with a normal job, or maybe he would’ve finally been able to move to a nicer apartment, or maybe… maybe he would’ve had a lover. Maybe Laurent should never have continued to push him into a life that he was so desperate to leave. _Why did Laurent keep trying to drag him back to carry out cons when that was clearly not what Edamura wanted?_ He should’ve been happy enough just carrying out one scheme with Makoto. Just one, and then they should’ve parted ways for good.

Laurent and Edamura should’ve been just two people whose lives briefly intersected. It never should have gone this far.

Suddenly, Laurent sensed he was being watched. The seat to his right had been empty since the start of the plane ride, which seemed innocent enough, albeit a bit odd. 

Glancing to his side, Laurent struggled not to tense up. _Keep your calm, Thierry._

It was a man. From the looks of it, he was in his mid-thirties, perhaps older. He slouched in his baggy, dark clothing, making it difficult to distinguish any of his physical features other than his face. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his sweatshirt, and he wore beat-up sneakers, caked in mud.

What stopped Laurent in his tracks though, were his eyes. The man was smirking slightly, but his eyes… they told another story. They were devoid of any emotion, a pale green, and seemingly piercing straight through Laurent’s guise.

The man took the empty seat next to Laurent. From his pocket, he withdrew a long, curved knife. He ran a finger over the flat part, flicking his gaze back and forth between Laurent and the weapon. Time seemed to slow.

“Boss said you’d be here,” was all the man said, his gaze still flicking, flicking, _flicking_.

Boss… _boss_ … was that the man who left the voicemail on Laurent's phone? The gears in Laurent’s brain began to turn. This man was… he was with the group that kidnapped Edamura. _His_ Edamura. The man he loved.

Laurent’s hands subconsciously clenched into fists. He struggled with the urge to punch this man in the jaw.

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet _one_ of you in person, I suppose,” Laurent finally spoke. He kept a pleasant smile plastered to his face, but deep inside, his thoughts were racing. The gun tucked into his coat’s pocket seemed to weigh him down, and Laurent internally cursed as he realized Team Confidence had grossly underestimated this league of criminals. “I didn’t know they let knives like those through the luggage check.”

The man twisted the hilt of said knife, as if contemplating whether or not to stab Laurent. His eyes were still flicking back and forth, searching for something.

“Laurent Thierry. Did you seriously think we wouldn’t notice you? A simple disguise doesn’t mask your _true_ nature. You’re a demon parading around as a human, Laurent.” The man leaned over to press the tip of the knife lightly against Laurent’s side. “You’re out of place here; it’s obvious. I suppose we all make mistakes when it comes to the people we care for, though.”

Laurent cocked an eyebrow. “Villains do love their weird analogies, don’t they?”

The man sneered at Laurent. The knife dug a bit deeper into the Frenchman’s side, enough to leave a faint scratch. Laurent’s smile only grew. 

“Going to kill me? I thought the exchange was happening in two days. Or did you go rogue, dear stranger? Are you _also_ a demon in disguise? It’s always _wonderful_ to converse with one’s kin.”

The man’s expression turned positively livid. It was evident he did not like being compared to the Frenchman in any way. “Face the fact, Laurent. You’re predictable. The boss knew you would come early, and he also knew you wouldn’t arrive at Haneda airport. He had us stake out any main airports in Las Vegas that you may use to travel. I’m just here to make sure you don’t leave.”

Laurent let out a hearty chuckle, which only stung his side slightly. “My dear friend, you can tell your boss that I do not intend to be jumping from this plane anytime soon. We’re how many feet in the air?”

The man’s deadpan eyes bore into Laurent. “Good. Because this plane won’t be arriving at Narita airport.”

Laurent raised an eyebrow. “Ah, I see. So, let me get this straight. Your boss figured out that I wouldn’t be arriving at Haneda airport. Simple enough conclusion to get to, assuming your boss has any brain cells. The only other obvious option would be Narita airport, which is the other major airport in Tokyo. Your organization knew I’d be arriving ahead of time to scope out the scene. I understand that much. But, if I may ask, how did you know I’d be on this flight, of all of them?”

The man grunted. “We’ve been following you, Laurent Thierry. These past two weeks, when you’ve been in Las Vegas, waiting to make your move, we assigned someone to watch you and your friends from afar. You, being intoxicated most of the time, were none the wiser. Everyone was so focused on poor, little _Laurent_ to even notice one of our men.”

Right then are there, Laurent vowed -- if he were to survive this -- to never drink again.

“Alright, valid point,” Laurent said, as casually as he could. “From there, you rallied your forces in Vegas and sabotaged my flight before I got on it. You must’ve had men waiting at the airport ahead of time… just how big is your organization?”

The man let out a shark bark of laughter, though his gaze didn’t waver. “Why, Laurent, we’re everywhere, don’t you see? We’re the ones you forgot about. The ones you hurt.” The knife bit further into Laurent’s side.

Laurent winced. “Y- You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Alright, then. I’ll tell you. We’re mostly from the Shanghai Mafia, but our leader is from the Tokyo Trading Company your boyfriend used to be a part of. We’re the people you didn’t scam directly, but might as well have. I’ll tell ya, after you and your little team pulled half those cons, you left us broke, without food, without a home, and nearly dead. You know that, Laurent? You nearly _killed_ us.”

Laurent narrowed his gaze. He reached his hand up to remove his glasses and hat, looking the man evenly in the eyes. The knife was but a dull pain in his side as his rage began to bubble over.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Laurent said, voice low. “I don’t regret anything I did to you or any other scumbags out there. I’d gladly do it again, if I had to.”

This time, the man’s eyes did show some emotion. There was a flash of hatred, like lightning, before the knife was dipped further into Laurent’s side.

Or it would’ve, if Laurent hadn’t stood up in time, removed his gun, and cocked it directly at the man’s head. The knife stabbed the air, leaving only a thin trail of Laurent’s blood behind.

“I thought you didn’t plan on killing me.” Laurent stared down the man, though he also tried to keep a mental tab on the rest of the plane. There were some regular passengers, it seemed, mixed in with the rest of the mafia members. Dammit. There were _civilians_ on this plane. That meant he couldn’t think about getting too violent.

From a few seats away, two individuals dressed in similar-style clothing -- not exactly the same, but close -- to the man that had just tried to stab Laurent stood up, making eye contact with him. As they, too, withdrew firearms from their pockets, finally the citizens on the plane began to panic. A man let out an unholy screech a row or so away, while a baby began to sob profusely, and a flight attendant promptly passed out.

_Fuck_ , Laurent thought. The best option to deal with this was to get to the front of the plane and pilot this damned thing himself. He didn’t know how to fly it, but no one would dare fire a deadly shot at him. He had yet to meet the group’s leader, after all. He wouldn’t die. _Would he?_

“Give it up, Laurent. You’re trapped. We’re going straight to Haneda airport. And then we’re taking you to the boss.” The man with the knife stared up at him, still being held at gunpoint. “You don’t want these innocent citizens to _die_ , do you? If you comply, they won’t be hurt. You might be… but only slightly, don’t worry.”

Laurent gritted his teeth. _There was never going to be an exchange for Edamura’s life, was there?_ Aby was right; this clearly was a trap. Yet he was stupid enough to fall for it.

_Think, Thierry. Think._ Planes had parachutes, right? If Laurent could make it to one of those, he would be safe, right? He could escape, _right_? But they weren’t in Japan yet, seeing as they weren’t even ten hours into the trip. He’d be lost in a foreign country, or worse, stuck in the sea. And these other people on the plane… he had no idea how many were waiting at the front where the pilot was, and they had guns. They could shoot him down. Laurent didn’t stand a chance.

“You promise you’ll leave them alone, right?” Laurent nodded at the other passengers, who were glancing around with frantic eyes, some too stunned to speak.

The man waved a hand. “Yes, yes. Of course.”

“I have no reason to trust you.”

“You also have no other option. Come on, boy. Sit back down. I’ll put away the knife if you hand me that gun of yours.”

Laurent gritted his teeth. Hesitantly, he lowered himself back into the seat. The man with the knife reached over to grab Laurent’s gun, and the Frenchman had no choice but to hand it to him.

The “pilot” of the plane was then heard over the intercom.

“We’re sorry, folks,” a man’s cheery voice said through a swarm of static. “Change of plans. We’ll be landing at Haneda airport. As long as you all cooperate, no one will be harmed. You got that, Laurent?”

Laurent bit his lip, holding back a string of curses.

The man with the knife grinned at him. His eyes were back to being dull, green slates. The individuals with the guns behind him sunk back into their seats.

“I do _so_ look forward to sightseeing in Japan. Don’t you, Laurent? Oh, and why we’re chatting, hand me your phone.”

If looks could kill, the look Laurent gave the other man would’ve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary of chapter:  
> Our lovely boy Laurent gets on a plane to Tokyo to save his future husband, Edamura. While he's on this plane though, he realizes that it has been taken over by the same group who kidnapped his (future) lover. Laurent has no choice but to stay on the plane as it is flown to Haneda airport, where he will, presumably, be taken to the leader of the kidnapper's group. It is revealed the group the kidnappers are a part of are made up of the Shanghai Mafia and Trading Company in Tokyo that Edamura worked for in season 2.
> 
> Another's note; I'm aware this chapter is confusing, so I'm more than happy to answer anyone's questions! Also sorry if there are typos; I'm using a new keyboard and I'm not yet used to it.
> 
> Also, I'm worried the next few chapters may become too predictable so I'm swapping up the storyline slightly. ;)


	11. Chapter 11

_Laurent, present day_

When Laurent finally woke up, hands knotted behind his back and surrounded by unfamiliar, blurry individuals, he at first thought he was hallucinating. He was drunk again, clearly. Those people couldn’t be real. _Where were Cynthia and Aby? Why did their flat in Las Vegas look so different?_

Laurent’s head was pounding, his surroundings smudged and unclear. It took a minute or so for all the events to come rushing back to him. 

Edamura was kidnapped. Laurent had left to save him. Laurent’s plane was taken over by… by the remnants of the Trading Company and Shanghai Mafia.  
  


So, that means the dimly-lit place Laurent was in currently was the mafia’s base. And he had been drugged. _When had they drugged him?_ He remembered a man… a man with eyes cold and devoid of life. A man who had taken his gun and phone. But, glancing around at the hazy faces, he couldn’t tell if that same man was here as well. As if it mattered.

His head hurt like hell. Laurent grimaced, and his eyes squeezed shut. _If only the room would stop spinning..._

Laurent couldn’t seem to comprehend what was happening for the life of him. _Why was this group after him specifically? Why not… why not anyone else involved?_ True, he had greatly deceived the Shanghai Group, but wasn’t their leader still trapped on an island or something? _Why… why did they have to do this?_

Laurent’s eyes stayed closed. He just wanted to sleep. Suddenly, he was so, so tired. 

“Laurent Thierry,” a voice spoke in front of Laurent. The voice that had left the voicemail, to be precise. The one that was seemingly this group’s leader, meaning he was formerly from the Tokyo Trading Company. _Great._ Just what Laurent needed right now. “I didn’t know you were so eager to come for Edamura! And I didn’t know you were so bad at following directions. If it weren’t for me, you’d have gone to the wrong airport!”  
  


Laurent stayed silent. His eyes were still closed, and his breathing came in shallow gasps. Whatever substance this gang had used on him was effective. _Just how long had he been unconscious?_

“Now, now. I’m sure you have questions, dear Laurent. Questions that will be answered in time,” the man in front of Laurent said tauntingly. “But, in order for me to answer those questions, I’m afraid you’ll have to open your eyes.”

Laurent flinched. _When did this man’s voice get so loud?_ Everything felt like too much, of all of a sudden, but Laurent couldn’t just stay silent for long. He was here for a reason. He couldn’t lose sight of what mattered.

“Why… why’s that?” _Jesus, was that Laurent’s voice?_ When he tried to speak, he sounded weak, fragile. _What had happened?_

“Huh? Speak up. No one can hear you when you mutter like that, Laurent Thierry.”

Laurent swallowed painfully, willingly himself to regain his signature confidence, though he knew that if it weren’t for the fact he was tied down, his hands would be shaking. 

“I- I asked you,” Laurent spoke slowly, trying to articulate to the best of his ability. “Why I have to look at a scumbag like you. I would much rather keep my eyes closed, t-thank you.”

The man in front of him was silent for a moment, before he let out a strangely unhumorous laugh. 

“Someone as smart as you, Laurent Thierry, shouldn’t have to guess as to why I want to be able to see the light drained from your eyes,” the man spoke, his boots hitting the dust-ridden floor softly as he strolled ever so closer to the Frenchman lying tied up on the warehouse ground, surrounded by guards. “Isn’t it obvious? I want to see you cry, Laurent. Which we will get to later, I’m sure.” The man adopted a more threatening tone, and he sounded closer to Laurent than before: only a few feet away, at most. “And, if you don’t comply, you know what? I’ll shoot your friend, Makoto Edamura. He’s in this very building, you know.”

Laurent’s blood turned frostbitten. Icy cold creeped up his spine, and a sharp wedge of fear pierced straight through his heart. An image of the mafia members with the guns that Laurent had encountered on the plane flashed through his head. Laurent imagined Edamura’s corpse, lifeless and laying in a pool of his own blood.

And, although it took several tries, Laurent painfully opened his eyes to squint at the man before him. Even then, his vision was still severely unfocused, as if he were looking at this man from underwater. After blinking several times, only then was able to make out more details: a poof of brown, coarse hair and a tattered yet expensive suit. An unlit cigarette clenched between dry, broken lips, twisted in a crooked smile. Boots that were strangely clean, yet old. A colorful blue tie with a… was that a cat stitched into it? Laurent wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t still hallucinating.

“Now, Laurent. I’m sure you’re wondering where you are. I’ll go ahead and fill you in, alright old-timer? You’re at a warehouse close to the Haneda airport. As you can presume based on your current sorry state, one of my men drugged you before you could get off the plane.” The man stuffed his hands in his pant’s pocket. He looked out of place in his current surroundings. The other group members -- still surrounding Laurent with a variety of firearms -- all wore baggy, dark clothing, while this man seemed like he based his style off rejected concept art for the Joker. “I’m sure you figured out by now that we had planned all this.”

Laurent’s gaze narrowed. “You… you’re the leader, aren’t you? Are… are you from the Tokyo Trading Group?”

The man laughed. “Oh, that’s what you were told? I mean, I guess that’s technically true. Though before your little heist, I was never a part of the Suzaku Group. You know who was though?” The man smirked, the cigarette still held tight in his teeth. “My mother. Though I guess you guys know her as Lady Akemi, the former Director of Suzaku Trading. Surely you know me, don’t you? You emailed me a video, awhile back. From there, it wasn’t hard to find your phone number.” The man tilted his head to the side. “Don’t get me wrong. I never approved of what my mother did. But after your little heist, you know what happened to her? She passed away. On that damned island in the middle of nowhere. She deserved better than that.”

“Strong words coming from someone who hadn’t talked to their family in years prior,” Laurent said. He was feeling a bit stronger than before; the side effects of the drug were beginning to wear off. “Why target me? We hardly know each other.”

Akemi’s son laughed yet again. There truly was hardly any resemblance between him and the former leader of the Suzaku Company. On the outside, the person before Laurent seemed tough, but deep down, he was nervous. This wasn’t the profession for him, Laurent could tell. He was acting out of recklessness. 

“Because, if it weren’t for you, maybe my mother would still be alive. There wasn’t enough food on that island. Did you know that? Basically no one made it off alive. You condemned them to die, Laurent. It was all your plan. Others may have been your accomplices, but you’re the source of the crime. And Makoto Edamura… that bastard. What right did he have to ever take my place? He wore my own tie and everything.” The man took a deep, shuddering breath. “So, you know what? I took matters into my own hands. I pulled together the remaining members of Tokyo Trading and the Shanghai Mafia, some just as furious as me. I put a plan in motion to stop you, Laurent. And Edamura returning to Japan made my job easier.”

“Why didn’t you go to your mother sooner, then?” Laurent questioned. “You shouldn’t only care for your loved ones when their lives are on the line. For all your talk, you’re still a child.”

“I- I,” Akemi’s son sputtered, seemingly speechless for a moment . “I don’t have to explain myself to you! You’re hypocritical, you know that? This guy who turned on my mom, Makoto Edamura, one of your own teammates… he left your team and you didn’t care enough to make sure he returned safely to his home. And you’re judging me on my actions? What have you been doing for the past few weeks while your teammate has been locked away, asshole? Do you even have the guts to face him, after what you did?”

Laurent grimaced. _He… he was entirely right._ “I came though, didn’t I? I’m here, aren’t I?” _Isn’t that enough?_

“Yeah, after my team hijacked your flight. You’re doing the bare minimum. You care, Laurent, but you don’t express that care. And that… that’s going to be your downfall.”

Laurent shook his head, but even at the slight movement, a guard to the right of him removed the safety lock on their gun. 

“What’s your name?” Laurent asked Akemi’s son, who was still seething in front of him.

“Huh? My name?”

“Yes, your name. You have only told me who your mother is. Not who you are. You’re seeking revenge for your mother’s death, but you’re still too angry at her to even tell me the name she gave you.” Laurent chuckled to himself. “You know what I think? You’re _pathetic._ A boy playing with a toy gun.”

Suddenly, the leader of the gang strode closer to Laurent. A shaking fist collided with the Frenchman’s face, resulting in blood splattering on the already filthy warehouse floor.

“I don’t have to prove a damn thing to you,” the man hissed, practically foaming at the mouth. “But, if you need to call me anything, call me… the Director. Because I just decided I am going to continue carrying on my mother’s work, in my own manner. Not by selling others, but by _exterminating_ them.”

Laurent coughed. He hadn’t expected such a strong punch from the other man before him. Even some of the former mafia members looked bewildered. 

“W- when the… when the time comes,” Laurent wheezed, not looking the self-proclaimed “Director” in the eyes. “Will you… will you be able… to p- pull the trigger, I wonder…? Will… will you release me…?”

The Director clenched his fists, which had specks of blood on them and were slightly bruised. He gazed down at Laurent with pure disgust in his eyes.

“I will. But it won’t be your life I’m ending.”

Laurent’s eyes flashed. “Y- you… you wouldn’t-”

“Silence him,” the Director spoke, and at once, a guard clamped a heavy hand over Laurent’s mouth. “You see, Laurent, it was never going to be a trade for Edamura’s life. No. He was never going to live, you see. Rather, I’m going to kill him and make you watch. I imagine that your other friends in… what was that silly name again? ‘Team Confidence?’ Right, I imagine that your other friends in _Team Confidence_ as well will show up. You can imagine where I’m going from here. You, helpless Laurent Thierry, will be forced to watch, to _live_ , while they die.” The Director removed the cigarette from his mouth, turning it around, almost as if he were studying it. “We’ll start by killing Makoto first. I don’t see any reason to wait any longer, actually. One of you, be a dear and bring Edamura out to see his boyfriend, would you?”

Laurent tried to scream. He thrashed around, trying to bite at the gloved hand that silenced him, but it was no use.

And then, the tears began to fall. Unassuming at first, but quickly picking up in intensity.

“See? This is why you must leave your eyes open, Laurent.” The Director practically beamed. “And make sure you don’t blink just yet. After all, the festivities have just begun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gentle reminder about this fic;  
> This is a canon divergent fic, so some events (such as Oz thoroughly explaining everything about Dorothy to Edamura and Dorothy being alive) did not happen. This is just an important thing to keep in mind. :)
> 
> Another thing: in the foreseeable future, I will also be editing this whole fic again to fix any grammatical errors, seeing as I finally have a beta reader! :D 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	12. Announcement Regarding Update Schedule- Not a Chapter

Hello everyone who happened to read this fic, I hope you’re having a great day! First off, I’d like to apologize for any grammatical errors I may make, seeing as I hardly ever write anything on my phone.

My PC decided to be annoying and long story made short, I need to take it in for repair this week. I thought the damage wasn’t that bad, but as things turned out, when I just tried to even edit a chapter, it decided to die. Half my apps no longer work, it crash’s randomly, and it’s noisy as hell.

I’m hoping the repairs easy and this is nothing, but if it’s not, updates to this fic could be pushed off as far as two or three weeks in the future. I apologize for this. I don’t use my phone to write fanfic; I can’t type that well on just a screen. Plus, my information is stored on my PC.

I’m super sorry. Hopefully it’s not that big an issue, but if it is and the problem is hard drive related or something else or whatever (idk I’m not a tech person) then I didn’t want to just vanish into mid air without letting y’all know.

Anyways, take care everyone. Hope to see you soon <3  
-Oliver


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for knives, blood, bruises, and other forms of violence. There will be a summary at the end if this is too triggering for some. <3

_Edamura, present day_

Leaving the filthy room he had been kept in since being taken into the kidnapper’s custody was, initially, a major relief to Edamura; he didn’t know how much longer he could stand the drab walls, or the stuffy air. In fact, Edamura had been almost enthusiastic about the whole process; when a guard (suspiciously heavily armed, but Edamura chose not to comment) came to tear Makoto away from his darkened, gritty chamber -- dragging him roughly into the main room of the warehouse -- Edamura had gone willingly. Delirious chuckles had arisen from deep inside him; he was finally being let go, he was going to be freed, he could live a normal life…

The laughter died in his throat when he saw what awaited him: the reason why he was pulled from his confinement. Time seemed to slow as Edamura struggled to piece together what happened; his hands knotted behind his back, lying on the moldy floor of the building, was Laurent. The Frenchman’s lip was badly bleeding, and bruises bloomed on his face: a multicolor of blue and purple swirled together to create a sickly hue. Laurent’s hair was streaked with grime and a thin layer of sweat, as if he hadn’t showered in weeks. Laurent’s breaths came in audible wheezes, and his eyes -- Laurent’s intelligent, taunting eyes -- were stained red from tears. Surrounding Laurent were a semicircle of ex-mafia agents, all in similarly-clad gear, pointing loaded firearms at the broken man before them.

Edamura had desperately missed Laurent, but this… he didn’t want to be united this way.

Standing proudly in front of Laurent, grin wide and deranged, was a man that stuck out like a sore thumb, compared to the rest of the group. A man wearing a raggedy, blue, cat tie. Although his face seemed familiar to Edamura, it took his brain a few moments to register what was truly going on here, and even then, it was hard to grasp the full picture.

Edamura had just one thought as he was rudely wrenched closer to the event unfolding before him: _fuck_.

“Why, Makoto Edamura! So kind of you to grace us with your presence. Bring him a bit closer, alright? And tie some extra rope on his hands for good measure, what the hell. I’m feeling generous.” Akemi’s son’s smile was a bit too eager for Edamura’s comfort. It was the grin of a liar: a facial expression just barely covering the anger raging within. “I hope we didn’t wake you up, dear Edamura. Your lover, here, though, just couldn’t _wait_ to see you any longer. Isn’t that right, Laurent? Don’t be shy.”

Laurent’s gaze was firmly fixed on the ground. From where Edamura had been forced to kneel a few feet away from the Frenchman, he could see that Laurent was trying hard not to show emotion, not to reveal just how hurt he was. Unlike past cons, this didn’t seem like a charade; there was no possible way to fake the raw emotions leaking from the corner of Laurent’s eyes, or the slight way his bottom lip trembled in fear. Laurent was so rarely afraid. _What had Akemi’s son done to him? What had the grinning, devil of a man said?_ A fresh wave of disgust for the individuals who had taken Edamura washed through him. It was one thing to throw Edamura into a mucky, icebox of a room and toss in stale bread every now and then; it was quite another to physically beat up the man he loved.

“Now, Edamura. I know you were quite close with my mother, hm? Or, at least, she thought you were. I bet you’ve seen photos of me, or something. Old people are so sentimental.” Akemi’s son sighed, as if what he was about to do pained him. “But, although you may have known her, I’m not sure if we’ve been formally introduced. You may call me the Director. I’m the rightful owner of the Tokyo Trading Company.” 

Edamura’s nose wrinkled in distaste. _What sort of name was that?_ _The Director_? _After all this time, was this man seriously trying to take after his mother? After he hadn’t spoken to her for years?_

Evidently, the “Director” didn’t notice Edamura’s sour expression, for he continued speaking as casually as ever. He took a couple of steps towards Edamura, twisted smile still painted on his face. With a flick of his slender figures, a guard was summoned to the Director’s side. Without so much as another word, the former mafia agent silently withdrew his firearm from its position in it’s holster: pressing it into the Director’s hand. The Director seemed to consider the weapon for a moment, weighing it in his palm. 

“You know, I used to see these guys as thugs,” the Director commented, still staring thoughtfully down at the firearm, trailing his finger along it’s metal handle. “The mafia has such a terrible connotation. I’ve never liked what my mother has done, but these people… they do have families. They do care about others.” Almost absentmindedly, with a fluid move of his finger, the Director unlocked the safety feature on the gun. “Your Team Confidence has that stupid motto of no killing. Do you think you’re the saviors of the weak, huh? The Robin Hood type figures? Bullshit.” Every word the Director spoke was uncharacteristically calm, like the waves in a sea before a storm swept in.

“You’re going to die, Edamura. Just like my mother did.”

Edamura’s head was spinning, gears whirring rapidly in his head. His thoughts were racing, heartbeat pounding, blood rushing in his ears. _Why did everything always have to go so wrong?_

Edamura swallowed a painful lump in his throat. He cast a glance over at Laurent -- silently pleading for the other to look his way, to acknowledge him -- but the Frenchman still wouldn’t meet his eyes. Rather, Laurent seemed detached: so, so far removed from his emotions. And that, honest to God, terrified Edamura more than the thought of being shot. 

“What do you have to say, Laurent? You’re being strangely quiet. How very boring.” The Director cocked the gun, pointing the barrel at Edamura. His hand only shook slightly; it was only due to Edamura’s close proximity to the other that he could make out the sweat beading on the Director’s forehead, as well as his quivering grip. "Speak up." When Laurent stayed silent, the Director (Edamura still didn't understand why he couldn't have just said his name; calling him "Director" was a bit much) frowned in obvious disappointment. It looked like he was going to say something else for a second, before deciding against it. Then, the world seemed to slow.

A couple of things happened in the next few moments. Several seemingly impossible things, one after the other, causing Edamura to be even more puzzled (which honestly, at this rate, he didn’t think was possible). 

The first event was shocking enough. Out of the corner of his eyes, suddenly, Edamura saw a glint of something metallic in Laurent’s hand: sawing against the restraints that held the Frenchman to the ground. In a few moments, both of Laurent’s hands had been freed, not that it made much difference. _How could a single man fight against a few dozen armed individuals?_

_Fuck_ , why wouldn’t Laurent just look Edamura in his eyes? _What was going on here? What wouldn’t Laurent tell the other? Why, even after leaving the group, was Edamura constantly left in the dark?_ Edamura gritted his teeth, nervous eyes darting from Laurent to the Director.

However shocking the first event was, though, Edamura wasn’t mentally prepared for the second. 

In a series of fluid movements too fast for Edamura’s eyes to catch, Laurent had suddenly appeared by his side, wrapped his arms around Makoto, and -- to Edamura’s immense horror -- put the sharp, metallic object against Edamura’s throat. This close to it, Edamura could tell that the object was a small pocket knife: tiny enough for a skilled con artist to keep hidden. _But why was it pressed to Edamura’s throat?_ It was digging into his skin, leaving a thin trickle of blood down Edamura’s neck.

“W-why? What are you doing?” Edamura’s voice was weak. Perhaps Laurent hadn’t heard it. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t respond. If Edamura had directed his gaze to the Frenchman’s face though, he’d have seen the flicker of regret in his eyes, the uncertainty in his half-thought out plan.

The Director lowered his gun, eyes wide. He held up a hand, signaling for his colleagues to lower their guns.

“You wouldn’t do it, Thierry,” the Director practically hissed. A few of the former mafia members exchanged uneasy glances. It was clear no one had accounted for this scenario, including Edamura, who was very close to having an anxiety attack. Laurent, though, seemed to have collected himself in the past few moments; a smug grin was spreading across his face. Edamura recognized that grin; it was the grin Laurent had when he outsmarted someone. The devilish expression he had when his opponent had made a fatal error. “What is your plan here? What are you hoping to accomplish? Either way, Makoto dies.”

Edamura’s heart pounded rapidly in his chest. What _was_ the plan here? Edamura had never liked being used as a pawn in Laurent’s games, but it was preferable to being killed. _Was the Frenchman mad that he had left Team Confidence? Was this all a sick plot for revenge?_

No… Laurent had come to save him, right? He was here, in the flesh, close to Edamura. He had a plan. Edamura just had to trust him. After all, it wasn’t like he had any other options.

“You clearly put a lot of thought into this plan, Director. You tracked me for weeks upon end, even took over my plane flight. But you made two foolish mistakes.” Laurent chuckled, pressing the pocket knife deeper into Makoto’s throat. Across from the two, the Director seemed nervous. Edamura couldn’t blame him. He, too, was only slightly less terrified. “Mistake number one; you assumed I was here to help a former member of the con artist team that I am a part of. I’m afraid isn’t true. I’m here to see the group that has been tracking me for weeks. You think I didn’t know all along that this was a plot to catch me when I was weak? And, more importantly, you think I would come back to save someone who had abandoned Team Confidence? You make me laugh. I’m Laurent Thierry. Not some rookie, unlike you.” Laurent raised an eyebrow, face calm, yet cocky. Already, this Laurent seemed so vastly different to the one that, just moments ago, was tied up on the floor. “Your second mistake was not catching the pocket knife I stashed in my coat pocket. Your group truly is pathetic. I can’t believe I allowed you lot to track me for so long. How dreadfully boring. At least I know my acting skills aren’t as rusty as I thought, though. You all actually believed I was a broken man, didn’t you?”

The Director practically foamed at the mouth, seething with rage. “What do you hope to accomplish, Laurent Thierry? You’re still surrounded by armed members of my group. If Edamura truly isn’t on your side anymore, why would he help you, the man pointing a weapon at his throat? You have no allies here, Laurent. And- and what about your tears? You were _crying_.”

Laurent stayed as poised as ever. “Please. Every con artist knows how to cry on command. Don’t be ridiculous. Regarding Edamura, by eliminating him, you have no real hold over me anymore, correct? Even if I were lying and did still care for him, killing him would effectively prove that I have since severed that bond. Should anyone on Team Confidence still have a soft spot for Edamura, eliminating him would remove the possibility of any malicious group abusing their emotions. Once I get out of here on my own, there would be no reason for Aby or Cynthia -- or anyone else, for that matter -- to come to this warehouse. This would render your plan to kill them useless.”

For a second, the Director looked scared; fear flashed in his eyes, and Edamura saw a glimpse of a soul just looking for a purpose in life, not over his mother’s death. For a brief moment, Edamura felt something akin to sorrow for the lost man standing before them, shaking as he fiddled with the hilt of a gun. Edamura knew how losing a parent felt, even if it was one you had never talked to in years. 

Then, the Director’s face morphed into a sneer, and that feeling was gone. Edamura couldn’t forgive the “Director" -- or his mother -- for the things they had done. He wouldn’t: not after they had hurt so many people.

“How do you plan to escape, Laurent Thierry? You’re clever, I’ll give you that. But you’re not immortal. A bullet kills. A punch bruises. You’re just a man, Laurent.”

Laurent let out a loud bark of laughter, as if what the Director had said was incredibly humorous. “That’s where you're wrong, my friend. You see, I was once told -- very recently, in fact -- that I’m more of a demon than a man, actually. I’m simply parading around as a human, I believe it was. So, I suppose it’s time I finally embrace my role in life and act like one, huh? Isn’t that what you did, _Director_? Embrace your inner demon?” 

The knife was still uncomfortably pressed into the crook of Edamura’s neck. Makoto tried to swallow, only for his throat to once more graze it’s cutting, metal edge. Sweat ran down his spine, and his bound hands felt clammy. Laurent’s arms wrapped around him were warm, but there was no comfort in the embrace. 

When Edamura squeezed his eyes shut, desperate for this nightmare to be over, all he saw was darkness. _What had happened to the open night sky, speckled with stars? Had he simply created a version of Laurent that didn’t exist: romanticizing their every interaction?_ The two’s hands weren’t interlaced; one was threatening the other with a weapon. A weapon that could kill.

Then, Laurent’s breath was in Edamura’s ear, and Edamura wished he didn’t like it as much as he did. He wished he could make sense of this whole fucking situation, but nothing was ever clear, was it? _Why wasn’t life simple? Why couldn’t the world just be a bit less cruel?_

“When I say run,” Laurent murmured, breath warm. “Run as fast as you can. These rookies left the front door unlocked. They’re new at this. Or, at least, their leader is.”

Edamura suddenly felt a wave of dizziness threaten to overtake him. “Wh-what?”

“Shhh.” When Edamura opened his eyes yet again, blinking away a few stray tears that had formed, the Frenchman’s lips were barely moving, and his eyes were still staring straight ahead. “When I say run, run as fast as you can. Right before, I’ll cut the rope holding your hands together, alright? But promise me you’ll actually leave. Get the hell out of here. No matter what you hear, or see, just keep going. Lay low once you’re out of the warehouse. They have spies everywhere.”

Wh-what? “Laurent, I- what?” Edamura’s brain failed to comprehend what was happening. “Why are you saving me? You just said-”

At long last, Laurent looked down at Edamura. It was a quick glance, but it was reassuring to Edamura to see that he wasn’t being completely ignored. Around the two, the whole room seemed to be held in suspense: waiting for Laurent’s next move, as if this were a game of chess.

“Forget what I said, Edamura. It’s all just acting. Just- just make it out. I- I would never forgive myself if something happened to you, okay?” For a split second -- so quick that it was hard for Edamura to even see -- something like regret passed over Laurent’s face. “I’m sorry. For everything. You deserve better.”

What? What the fuck? What was that supposed to mean? “Laurent, what-”

In a single motion, the rope binding Edamura’s hands together was swiftly cut, falling to the warehouse floor. Before Edamura could register what was happening, suddenly Laurent was standing, moving away from Makoto, putting up a boundary, putting on a mask, crossing the distance to the Director, but not before saying one word:

“Run."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary:  
> Laurent devises a risky plan for Edamura to escape involving pretending like he doesn't care for Edamura, but it is unclear on if he will make it out as well. Laurent tells Edamura to run out of the warehouse when he tells him to, saying that he's sorry and would never forgive himself if something bad were to happen to Edamura.
> 
> Author's note: Hi hi everyone, so sorry I disappeared for a bit. I hope everyone reading this is doing well! Stay safe and hydrated! <3


End file.
